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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27368437">An Uphill Climb</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/marylikesstuff/pseuds/marylikesstuff'>marylikesstuff</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gravity Falls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bullying, Gen, Nightmares, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:55:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27368437</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/marylikesstuff/pseuds/marylikesstuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Shorty after the series ends, Gideon starts keeping a journal of his own. He finds himself facing off against gnomes, witches, and worst of all, this awful new thing he’s never experienced before: Guilt for his past actions. (Includes Illustrations)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Schoolyard Scrap</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>September 1st</strong>
</p>
<p>I, Gideon Charles Gleeful, am born again!</p>
<p>I hereby vow to turn over a new leaf. Behind me forever are my days of manipulating, scheming, and all around wrongdoing. From now on I’m just a regular ol’ kid. As sweet and harmless as my dimples are adorable.</p>
<p>You can hold me to it too! Just you watch, Gravity Falls. You’ll be hard pressed to find a boy as good and truly repentant as I am.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>September 2nd</strong>
</p>
<p>So it turns out simply <em>sayin’</em> that you’re turning over a new leaf ain’t quite enough to win back an entire town’s trust. Especially after years of deceit and whatnot. <strike>What a time for these buncha idiots to finally start using their brains</strike>.</p>
<p>No, no Gideon! None of that! New leaf, remember?</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>It’s all right. It’s fine. I’ll win the town back over in no time at all. I’ll prove to ‘em that I mean it when I say I’ve changed. They’ll see!</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>September 4th</strong>
</p>
<p>Goodness gracious me, the folks round here certainly ain’t making this easy, are they? Every time I step into town I get scowled at or called a rat by some passerby. Whether it’s those two <strike>dimwitted</strike> very intelligent police officers, <strike>the old hag</strike> sweet elder woman who works at the diner, or that <strike>revolting looking</strike> handsome gentleman, Toby Determined. Seems everybody in town wants nothing more than to spit in my general direction.</p>
<p>
  <strike>Lord, imagine being less respected than even Toby Determined.</strike>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Seems the only person willing to be civil towards me is that hillbilly who used to live in the dump. Granted he did call me a possessed porcelain doll when he said good morning to me, but I’ll just chock that up to dementia rather than outright malice on his part.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>September 5th</strong>
</p>
<p>I’m beginning to think that perhaps this skateboardin’ hobby just ain’t for me. If I keep at this I’m gonna wind up having more scabs on my elbows than a chicken has feathers. Plus the giggles I keep gettin’ at the park ain’t exactly encouraging. It’s especially vexing when it’s from a toddler.</p>
<p>On top of that I’ve been issued several warnings by the mayor himself that if I sic a group of ex-cons on another “helpless” child again, I’ll be tossed right back into the clink. So I reckon it’s time to retire this old skating board of mine.</p>
<p>I’m not giving up, mind you! I’ve simply decided to try my hand at a different recreational activity is all.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>September 6th</strong>
</p>
<p>I’ve had to call off Ghost Eyes and the other fellers from beatin’ up over half the town at this point. All of my old billboards have been vandalized, and just this morning my folks and I woke up to find that our home has once again been egged. Third time this week.</p>
<p>I handled things splendidly though, just as I vowed I would. I never once lost my temper. Sure, I punched the walls of my room until my knuckles bled, but I assure you, that’s completely unrelated. Cross my heart!</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>September 8th</strong>
</p>
<p>School has been... rough.</p>
<p>Ghost Eyes and the rest of the fellas can’t come with me to class of course (despite how much I tried to convince the principal otherwise) so I’m on my own. No more celebrity status also means I’ve unfortunately lost the influence I once had over my peers. And it seems they’ve been aching for the opportunity to finally knock me down a few dozen pegs for years. This is the second day in a row that I’ve gone home with a busted lip.</p>
<p>But as I’ve said, I am NOT going to let any of this break my resolve. I am a new Gideon Gleeful. One that doesn’t lose his cool easily. Not no more.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>September 9th</strong>
</p>
<p>Gosh dang it all to HECK and back!</p>
<p>I got suspended today.</p>
<p>I been tryin’ so hard to keep my temper in check. I really have! No matter how often I’d come into class to see a whole new slew of graffiti scribbled on my desk callin’ me a fat little pig and other such derogatory things, I swallowed down my rage.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>No matter how many paper airplanes and spitballs would be lodged at my person during class (some even courtesy of my teacher), I again swallowed down my rage.</p>
<p>I’d be spit on in the hallways, have food flung at me during lunch, and far too often open up my locker to find a great big heap of garbage waiting to pour out on me. And yet I kept my rage bottled up inside.</p>
<p>Everyday I could feel a vein or two protruding from my forehead, and my eye would twitch something awful, but I held myself together.</p>
<p>UNTIL TODAY.</p>
<p>Curse those Corduroy boys. They done went and took it too far! I wasn’t even halfway past the jungle gym before all three of ‘em jumped me after school. A crowd gathered around us as they held me down, pulled out a pair of scissors and... and...</p>
<p>Oh heavens to Betsy, I can’t even bear recalling it!</p>
<p>Those horrible brutes... THEY CHOPPED OFF A CHUNK OF MY BEAUTIFUL HAIR!!</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>I tell ya, I saw nothin’ but red. Next thing I knew I had the oldest Corduroy pinned down and pleadin’ for mercy as I punched him again and again. I didn’t let the other two off easy either. I grabbed a fist full of the middle Corduroy’s hair and threw him to the ground. And just as the littlest one tried making a break for it, I leapt over, snatched him by his tiny ankles and knocked him silly too.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>I betcha just ‘cause I’m short and plump they must have figured I’d be an easy mark. But you don’t spend half a summer in prison without learnin’ how to beat a feller senseless. They’re lucky three bloody noses is all I gave ‘em!</p>
<p>Now normally I prefer not to get my own hands dirty. But here’s the thing. Number #1: My henchmen weren’t present at the moment. And number #2: Those fools made the mistake of messin’ with my hair. <em>Nobody</em> messes with my hair.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Unfortunately it wasn’t long before several frantic staff members and even the dang principal himself came barreling over, suspension notice already in hand. Naturally I was the only kid to face any consequences. To think just months ago all I had to do was quiver my lip and every adult in my vicinity would melt like putty. Dangit, do I ever miss those days.</p>
<p>What’s the whole town gonna think once the news spreads? “Yep, that Gideon Gleeful’s still a bad seed after all. He ain’t changed one bit and never will.”</p>
<p>No doubt the Corduroys are gonna tell their sister what I did too. Darn it, that’s just what I need. Well shoot, I ain’t afraid of Wendy. I’ve faced interdimensional demons, so she don’t scare me none.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>September 10th</strong>
</p>
<p>All right, fine, she scares me! All day she’s been camping out behind my house with an honest to goodness AXE, waitin’ for me to be foolish enough to come outside. She wouldn’t really use it against me though, right? She’s just tryin’ to intimidate me is all.</p>
<p>I hate to admit it, but that girl’s scarier than even the biggest, burliest prisoner in Gravity Falls penitentiary. ‘Sides, it was her brothers that what went and started it anyway. I was minding my own business.</p>
<p>...well all right, I suppose you could argue that I started it by bein’ such an unpleasant little so and so for years in the first place, but that’s beside the point!</p>
<p>Well, it’s not like I can bear to be seen outside anyway after what’s been done to my perfect hair. I spent all of last night desperately trying to salvage the damage. It took three whole bottles of hairspray, but miraculously I was able to comb back what was left into my usual pompadour, albeit a much smaller one. I was left feelin’ mighty woozy though. Had to go lie down immediately afterwards.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>On the bright side, Ghost Eyes sounded real proud of me when I told him what happened at school. Glad to know there’s someone in town who’s still fond of me.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. House Arrest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>September 12th</strong>
</p><p>Second day of sitting at home, licking my wounds.</p><p>Wendy’s still out there givin’ me the stink eye. Dang it, just how the heck am I supposed to change for the better with her breathing down my neck like this? This just sours my lemonade!</p><p>Now, now, Gideon. Things’ll be fine. I just gotta give it time and try to look on the bright side. Bein’ stuck at home means I got an opportunity to do some good for my parents. They still flinch every time I enter the room (especially mother), so goodness knows I’ve got my work cut out for me when it comes to making things right with them.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Soon as I got up this morning I marched myself right up to mother, flashed her my cutest smile and offered to cook breakfast.</p><p>She... didn’t exactly respond as well as I hoped she would.</p><p>
  
</p><p>She shrieked, jumping away from me while holding up her spatula as a means of protection. I always knew things weren’t exactly a bed of roses between us, but my goodness.</p><p>I didn’t let it deter me though. Sure, breakfast may have been a failure, but Gideon Gleeful don’t give up easy! I offered to do the laundry next. Came out as soft as a basket of newborn kittens. I ironed and folded it too. Did a finer job than any laundromat could ever hope to do. Yet when I brought it up to my parents’ room, my mother screamed and barricaded the door. Daddy had to spend half an hour calming her down just so she’d come out again.</p><p>I tried offering to vacuum the house for her next. She clutched the darn thing in her arms and ran off to the other side of the house. I had a beautiful, freshly cut bouquet of the prettiest dang pink tulips you’d ever done seen delivered to the house, but when I presented them to her, she swatted them away in a panic as if I’d handed her a cup of spiders.</p><p>I dusted the living room, mopped the floors and (lord help me I’m this desperate) even hand scrubbed every toilet in the house! She cowered behind the couch the entire time.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Heck, she won’t even look me in the eye. Every time I approach her I notice how her gaze nervously falls to her feet.</p><p>I... honestly don’t know if there’s anything I can do. I started out confident this morning, but what if the damage is irreversible? What if no matter what I do, my mother’s only ever gonna see me as nothing but a monster?</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>September 14th</strong>
</p><p>No matter what I try, I still can’t seem to make any progress with mother. Yesterday I baked her and daddy an apology cake, but she wouldn’t touch it. Daddy helped himself to it though, so at least it didn’t go entirely to waste.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Mother avoids me whenever we cross paths in the house, so I’ve decided to stay put in my room for a while. Perhaps giving her a touch of space might help.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>September 16th</strong>
</p><p>For the past two days I’ve been holed up in my room with nothin’ to keep me company but Ducktective reruns, Cheekums, and a bucket of strawberry ice cream. I fear I might be falling into a bit of a depression. Normally the sound of my spoon scrapping the bottom of the bowl cheers me up like nothin’ else, but not this time.</p><p>I need another bucket.</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>September 17th</strong>
</p><p>Tried doin’ something more productive today. A little bit of spring-cleaning in the fall. With all this free time I’ve found myself with, I got to thinkin’ “Why not?” It’ll give me an excuse to toss out all the more... what’s a good word? “Unsavory” things I’ve accumulated in my room this past summer.</p><p>Just the sight of that old popsicle stick Mystery Shack turns my stomach something awful. What the heck was I thinking? Popsicle sticks? Really? What am I, a dang preschooler? Land sakes, what an eyesore.</p><p>Oh, and plus it represents that whole silly obsession I had with destroying the Pines family too, I guess. But that’s all well behind me a’ course.</p><p>And goodness me, those horrendous little dolls I made! I bet the shrink back at Gravity Falls penitentiary could write a hefty sized novel about me on just those things alone. <strike>He’d probably make a fortune with it too, the hack</strike>.</p><p>Trashin’ them ain’t enough. Cute as they are (even without their heads) they are goin’ straight into the fireplace.</p><p>And oh goodness gracious me, my door! Here I thought my collage of sweet Mabel’s pictures were quite tasteful. Instead it hit me real hard just how much it looked more like what ya might find in a serial killer’s basement. Maybe, juuuust maybe... I did lose my marbles a tad bit. <em>Maybe.</em></p><p>Nah, what am I saying? I was just a young lovesick fool back then, that’s all. I merely let my harmless, innocent schoolboy passion get away from me a little.</p><p>All right, perhaps “harmless” and “innocent” aren’t quite strong enough terms.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Ugh, whatever. Point is, the nightmare collage is gone now too. It was with a heavy heart that I tore down each photo of my dear precious Ma—no! No, I don’t even deserve to utter her name anymore. I don’t deserve to walk the same green Earth and breath the same fresh air as my former marshmallow, let alone speak her beautiful name.</p><p>
  
</p><p>I really stuck my foot in it, didn’t I? To think I could have had a makeover buddy if I hadn’t been so... nevermind. Thinkin’ about all this is making my gut feel all twisted up like a rattlesnake’s prey. There’d better be more ice cream in the fridge, I swear.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>September 18th</strong>
</p><p>I need to move on already. All this pining for she who shall not be named ain’t healthy for me. Actually, here’s an idea! The next time I so much as think of <strike>Mab</strike> the female Pines, I’m gonna jab this here pen into my hand. That’ll do the trick.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>September 18th (fifteen minutes later)</strong>
</p><p>I’ve stabbed myself in the hand a good fourteen times now. I’m startin’ to run out of band-aids. Better have daddy go out and fetch me some more.</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Night Terrors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>September 20th</strong>
</p><p>My eyes are beginning to hurt. There’s an all day marathon on the black and white period piece old lady boring movie channel (goodness me, that is a mouthful), and I just can’t seem to look away. These dusty old films are so ancient, I bet Gram Gram’s own mama probably saw them premier in person. I hafta admit, the gowns in The Duchess Approves are positively stunning though.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>September 20th (Eight hours later)</strong>
</p><p>I’M lOSIN’ MY DANG MIND.</p><p>I had to shove the television out into the hall. If I kept watching that marathon a moment longer, so help me, I was gonna wind up carted off to the nuthouse. I don’t care if Wendy is still out there waitin’ to bash my face in, or if the townsfolk start chuckin’ rocks at me the second I step outside— I gotta get out of here!</p><p>Even Cheekums is starting to worry about me. He sits on my bed and stares wall eyed at me as I pace in a frantic circle. That or he probably just wants some lettuce.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>September 22nd</strong>
</p><p>The only thing driving me nuttier than the isolation are these blasted nightmares I keep having. Yeah, I know Mayor Tyler set up that ridiculous, “Nevermind All That” policy, but you try tellin’ that to my subconscious. Every other night I wake up in a cold sweat with that awful triangle’s laughter echoing between my ears.</p><p>Some nights it’s the ventriloquist dummy dream. Bill sits on his throne of townies with me plopped on his lap (despite his lack of one) and forces me to sing while he drinks a cup of water. Well, not drink exactly. More like pours it into his eye, which is honestly several times more disturbing.</p><p>
  
</p><p>My rosy cheeks and healthy glow are gone. Instead my flesh is made of wood, with little slits down the sides of my mouth as I sing twinkle twinkle little star. Gives me the shivers just thinkin’ about it.</p><p>Other times it’s the dream where I’m back in that cramp little cage, wearin’ that horrendous sailor suit and dancing against my will. My legs feel like jello, but I just can’t stop tappin’ my little tap shoes on the cage floor. Bill and his ugly as heck minions throw pennies at me, makin’ me holler in pain, but I still can’t stop dancing. No matter how hard I will myself, I can never stop.</p><p>But the worst dream... the absolute <em>worst</em> dream of all is when I finally collapse from utter exhaustion. Bill’s hand is suddenly enormous. He reaches toward me and plucks me right out of my cage like some tiny, squealing lil’ wind up toy.</p><p>“I thought I told you to keep dancing?” he barks at me. “Chop, chop!”</p><p>The chops then become quite literal.</p><p>His other hand transforms itself into razor sharp axe, and with two swipes my legs are clean off! I find myself writhing on the floor in agony as my dismembered legs continue dancing around me. Bill and his horrible demon posse tower over my pitiful form and laugh.</p><p>They laugh and they laugh and they laugh. It’s the most maddening sound in the world.</p><p>Heaven help me, <em>I hate that dream so much!</em></p><hr/><p>
  <strong>September 24th</strong>
</p><p>Another night, another nightmare.</p><p>Nowadays I got bigger bags under my eyes than a shopper on black Friday. No amount of makeup can cover up this whole mess. Believe you me, I’ve tried. After a week I finally threw in the towel. ‘Sides, I’m still stuck inside anyways. Not like anybody’ll see me.</p><p>Luckily my looks are the only thing these confounded nightmares are taking a toll on. My mental state is just fine. Sure, I find myself tearin’ out pieces of my hair every now and then and have the occasional outburst at the dinner table, but other than that I’m dandier than candy.</p><p>...well. All right. Maybe sometimes after a particularly nasty dream I’m tempted to call up Ghost Eyes.</p><p>But I never give in. I’m ten years old now, after all. I ain’t a baby no more. Plus really now. What would the fellas think of me if I came cryin’ to them over some silly night terrors? I’d be laughed right out of the gang and forced to resign as leader. And after how hard I had to fight to claw my way up the ranks for that position, there ain’t no way in heck that I’m showing even the tiniest bit of weakness.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>September 25th</strong>
</p><p>Shoot.</p><p>The nightmare I had just now was real bad. My hands won’t stop shaking. I can barely hold this doggone pen.</p><p>I must’ve screamed real loud, ‘cause mama and daddy came busting through my door like a couple of panicked hens. How utterly mortifying. I managed to save some face, tellin’ them I merely banged my elbow on the nightstand. Luckily they bought it.</p><p>They scurried off back to bed, but an odd part of me almost wanted to call them back.</p><p>I never noticed till now just how dark my room is at night. Was it <em>always</em> this dark? And my mirror... was I crazy, or did it look sorta like a gaping mouth with teeth, ready to eat me? The dresser too. Why’s it look so menacing? Like a rectangular shaped demon curled up, just waiting to spring to life and get me!?</p><p>Are those eyes? Eyes on the dresser— and on the ceiling too! And the walls!</p><p>They’re <em>his</em> eyes!</p><p>
  
</p><p>Nonono, calm yourself, Gideon. Get a grip. He’s gone. The Pines family said so. He ain’t nothin’ but a lifeless statue now, rotting away in the forest. So get a hold of yourself, boy. He’s never coming back.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>September 26th</strong>
</p><p>I’m such a fool. A doggone fool!</p><p>Tonight I did just about the stupidiest gosh darned thing I think I’ve ever done in my whole life. ‘Cept maybe that silly giant robot debacle. Or the time I summoned an honest to goodness demon. Or— well ‘yknow, you get the point.</p><p>So I had yet another nightmare. Surprise, surprise. And just as I was trying to calm myself, clutching my chest and panting like a spooked dog, I noticed that mother was standing at my door. Like some sort of tall, gangly ghost.</p><p>Just how long was she there for? I could just chuck myself right into the bottomless pit, I was so embarrassed.</p><p>She let out a little yelp when she realized I saw her. She flailed clumsily, panic evident on her face as she scrambled to leave. But to both our shock I suddenly cried out, demanding that she wait.</p><p>Heavens to Betsy, I can’t imagine how red my face was. Imagine, a kid my age callin’ out for his mother. When did I become such a disgrace?</p><p>I sat there on my bed, twiddlin’ my thumbs real awkward-like. I didn’t even know why I wanted her to wait. I had just blurted it out without thinking.</p><p>The air was thick with unease on both our parts. My mind rushed to think of something, ANYTHING, to justify asking her to stay. My eyes darted around my room in desperation till they finally landed on my nightstand. There was a stack of books there that I had to read for school during my suspension. With a still slightly shaky hand, I reached for one.</p><p>“Mother?”</p><p>I barely recognized my own voice. I don’t think I’ve ever sounded so small and helpless in my life. Utterly pathetic. I could almost heave. Yet for some reason I continued.</p><p>“...will you read me a bedtime story?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>She stood petrified at the door, lookin’ completely gobsmacked. Guess I don’t blame her. I can’t believe I’d ever make such a babyish request either. I don’t know what the heck had gotten into me. It had to be the nightmares. They had me all rattled me up.</p><p>Mother wrung her hands nervously. Maybe for a split second or two she was actually considerin’ it, but she ultimately thought better. She mumbled something incoherent under her breath before clamoring out the door in fear. A definite “no.”</p><p>I shouldn’t have been surprised. Heck, I betcha the sky would have started falling right then and there if she <em>had</em> come in and read to me. Yet for some silly reason... it hurt.</p><p>My eyes started prickling with frustrated tears, but I wiped ‘em clean away as soon as they threatened to fall. Gideon Gleeful Does. Not. Cry. Why, I can’t even recall the last time I did such a fool thing. Not since I was a sad lil’ first grader. Back before I found that dusty old journal and my long gone amulet all those years ago. And dang it, I wasn’t about to start cryin’ again now.</p><p>No, instead I got angry. Mighty angry.</p><p>
  
</p><p>My fat little fists shook, and without thinking I chucked that stupid book in my hands clear across the room. It hit the wall with a noisy bang and crumpled to pieces. The spine got cracked right in half, and pages spilled out every which way, making a big ol’ mess all over the floor.</p><p>You know what? Fine.</p><p>So what if I’m plagued with nightmares for the rest of my life? So what if mother doesn’t love me and probably never will? Or if this whole backwoods town hates me forever too? I don’t care anymore. Who even needs ‘em?</p><p>If they all want me gone so badly, then I reckon I’ll run away. They’ll be overjoyed, I’m sure. They’ll have a big ol’ celebration, happier than ticks on a dog to finally be rid of me. First thing tomorrow morning I’m gonna pack up my things and I’ll be good as gone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Babe In The Woods</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>September 27th</strong>
</p><p>I’m true to my word.</p><p>Soon as the sun started comin’ up over the trees I emptied my schoolbag and started to pack. I grabbed only the essentials for the time being. My toothbrush, hair products, jammies, snacks, some cash and a couple a’ knives. You never know when you’ll need a knife.</p><p>Then I marched myself right out of the house.</p><p>Mother and daddy were still sleeping, so I discretely slipped a note under their door before skedaddling. I figured I at least owed them a polite farewell after everything I put ‘em through. Boy are they ever gonna be relieved to find me gone. I said my goodbyes to Cheekums too. Here’s hoping that bag of seed I filled his cage with lasts him a good while.</p><p>That ol’ familiar autumn chill was finally starting to find it’s way to the falls as I headed into the woods. The town may hate my guts, but fortunately none of the critters and beasts lurkin’ out in the forest had any bones to pick with me. Hopefully.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Not fifteen minutes into my journey and I was already dipping into my snacks as I trudged along.</p><p>Look, I eat when I’m upset, ok?</p><p>I wondered just what the heck I was gonna do next. Maybe once I reached the edge of the forest, I’d give Ghost Eyes and the boys a call. Ask ‘em to swing by and give me a lift to whatever neighboring state was closest. Then I’m sure I would have figured something out from there. I oughta be fine, I thought to myself. I’m a resourceful, savvy individual. I could start up a new business venture in a new town, under a new name.</p><p>
  
</p><p>As I helped myself to my cookies I passed a tree with a missing person’s poster on it. Apparently that wealthy Northwest girl I always used to catch on TV in those glitzy pageant commercials had gone missing a few days ago.</p><p>Funny story. I used to be part of the pageant circuit myself back in my toddler days. With my looks and my flair, surely how could I not? Oh, but Gideon, ain’t you a boy you’re probably asking. I sure am, but prize money is prize money. And it’s like daddy would always say as he dolled me up and carried me out onto the stage back in the day: What the judges don’t know won’t hurt ‘em.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Ah, memories. Shame that once I grew too old to fool the judges I had to retire my gowns. Luckily I got into a different racket instead shortly afterwards. Er, I mean— the legitimate psychic business. ...<strike>who am I foolin’?</strike></p><p>Tangent aside, I pressed on. Don’t think me heartless, but I honestly wasn’t all too concerned over the Northwest girl. She was rich, after all. A kid whose actually wanted. No doubt in my mind that a search party was probably formin’ for her right that very second as I made my way through the thicket. Now that, I realized, <em>was</em> cause for alarm. Last thing I needed was to deal with the townsfolk. Especially in my less than presentable state. I sill had those bags under my eyes, and one heck of a sour disposition given everything that’s happened these past dreadful weeks.</p><p>So I changed course to a less traveled neck of the woods. One most humans don’t even know exists. It’s just a right at the tree that looks like a it’s got a screamin’ face, a left at the old well, another right at the daisy patch and boom. There you are. Standing right at the entrance of the enchanted glen. I could cut right through there, easy as pie.</p><p>Soon as I pulled back the mossy curtain of flowers, I was greeted by the usual whimsical sight; a small stampede of adorable critters, all dewy eyed and cute. A cluster of squirrels and chipmunks danced behind my every step. Birds flew down from the trees to chirp playfully in my ear, and lil’ baby bunny rabbits nuzzled my sneakers. Even a fairy or two flittered by, a sparkle of sunlight reflecting off their tiny wings.</p><p>Same old, same old, basically. This wasn’t my first rodeo.</p><p>I whistled a little tune to myself as I passed through (hard to resist not to). But my merry whistle was cut short by a nearby scream. Strange, I thought. It usually takes until at least noon for something to get caught and eaten in the glen.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Curiosity got the best of me. Brandishing one of my knives, I carefully snuck over toward the direction the shriek had come from. My small army of woodland critters followed close. I would have shooed ‘em away, but they were just so darned cute.</p><p>That’s when I saw them. I shouldn’t have been surprised, really. I was awful close to their territory, now that I look back on this. Practically just a hair away.</p><p>Gnomes. A whole mess of ‘em.</p><p>And wouldn’t you know it, they had the Northwest girl tied to a tree. She was none too happy ‘bout it either. She was raising one heck of a ruckus, hootin’ and hollerin’ most unbecomingly. Guess that solved that mystery.</p><p>“If you creeps don’t untie me right now—“ she demanded while kicking her legs rather uselessly. “I am suing every last one of you!”</p><p>The gnomes ignored her legal threats. All they seemed to care about was finally having caught themselves a queen. I almost got roped into that whole nonsense myself once.</p><p>That was when an idea struck me! Maybe, <em>just</em> maybe... I wouldn’t need to run away after all. Perhaps fate had decided to quit kickin’ my behind and throw me a bone for the first time in goodness knows how long.</p><p>Presented before me was a golden opportunity. The chance to perform a heroic deed, practically gift wrapped for me in an expensive designer bow. Saving that gal was just the ticket I needed to get back in good with the town. Plus, given how rich and influential she is, it could even lead to TV spots! Full page spreads on newspapers and magazines! Gravity Falls would welcome me back with open arms.</p><p>Finally, I could say so long to this tarnished reputation and hello to the good ol’ cushy days of being the town darling again. <strike>Maybe even mother would warm up to me</strike>. I just needed a plan.</p><p>What I presumed to be the gnomes’ leader strut up to the girl, lookin’ real proud of himself despite the fact that it was his lackeys that were doin’ all the dirty work.</p><p>“We did it, boys!” he bellowed, placing his tiny hands on his tiny hips. “After months of heartbreak and failure, we finally found ourselves a bride!”</p><p>“Ummm... ew. No you haven’t.”</p><p>“There, there, honey. That’s just pre-wedding jitters talking.”</p><p>I scurried off at this point, back to the glen. I needed to get my hands on some fairy dust and fast. It wasn’t really legal in this part of the woods, but really now. Anything’s legal so long as there ain’t no cops buzzin’ around.</p><p>I bartered for some with a rather grizzled looking fairy. She was sold as soon as I offered up my knives, tellin’ her they were specifically fairy sized. Then I raced back to where the would-be shotgun wedding was about to be held and poured the pouch of dust all over myself.</p><p>“Turn me into the prettiest lil’ thing they’d ever done seen!”</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>September 28th</strong>
</p><p>Hoo wee, my plan worked and then some!</p><p>Those gnomes never knew what hit ‘em. Out I came from within the forest, underneath a conveniently placed beam of morning sunlight like a radiant, bonafide angel. My hair down and cascading around my shoulders. Army of woodland critters still following at my feet. I sashayed over effortlessly in a heavenly white gown with a crown of beautiful flowers atop my pretty lil’ head. To cap it all off I took a page out of Snow White’s book and crooned out a song.</p><p>Lil’ Miss Arkansas, eat your heart out.</p><p>
  
</p><p>The gnomes were gob smacked. “W-who... who is <em>that?</em>” the leader stammered out, quickly forgetting about the blonde they were just a breath away from almost marrying.</p><p>“You’re the most beautiful maiden we’ve ever seen!”</p><p>“Ex<em>cuse</em> me?!” came a rather offended sounding voice from behind him.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Sorry honey. Ya’ll can’t compete with perfection. Those little men took a moment, looking back and forth between her and me, before quickly making a decision. Like a tidal wave they were soon upon me, hoisting me up and carrying me off to their quant little gnome village. Insulted as she was, at least the Northwest gal was safe. I made sure to order a couple a’ chipmunks to head back and chew through her ropes.</p><p>So here I am. Queen of the gnomes.</p><p>The wedding ceremony was quite tasteful. Nothing too gaudy. Whole thing was even catered. The cake, I must say, was absolutely divine.</p><p>Y’know, crazy as this sounds, this ain’t too bad an arrangement. Apparently all I gotta do is sit on a flowery throne and look pretty. Occasionally I’ll have to settle silly disputes between caterpillars or some nonsense, and keep on eye on the berry trafficking that goes on in the forest, but for the most part I’m just decoration. The little fools are head over heels crazy about me and wait on me hand and foot.</p><p>I’m not planning to stick around forever, of course. Just a teensy bit. I tells ya, I never knew just how much I missed being adored like this. It’s almost like the good old days again. But as soon as I get the chance I’ll sneak away. Heck, I betcha that rich Northwest girl has already told the townsfolk about my heroic deed and they’ll be out here lookin’ for me real soon.</p><p>All I hafta do now is sit back comfortably and wait.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Runaway Bride</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>October 1st</strong>
</p>
<p>WHERE THE SAM HILL IS EVERYBODY?!</p>
<p>I’ve been out here in this run down little gnome village for two days now! And lemme tell ya, any positives about this queen position have gotten outweighed by the bad real fast. First off, this ridiculous pointy hat doesn’t do a thing for me. Even <em>I</em> can’t pull it off. Red has never really been my color.</p>
<p>But more importantly, I’m stuck living in a forsaken little hut with no electricity! No air conditioning! Not even basic cable, for cryin’ out loud! And all there is to eat out here is berries. <em>Berries!</em> What is this, the boy scouts?! I can feel myself wasting away! Prison was a five star hotel suite compared to this. The dang Amish are living more luxuriously than I am.</p>
<p>Yet have I heard anything from town? Not a darn peep!</p>
<p>Just what the heck happened with that Northwest girl? Didn’t she tell nobody about my valiant rescue? Doesn’t anybody care?!</p>
<p>I’m giving ‘em one more day. Then that’s it. I can’t take living like this any longer. I need <em>actual</em> food, dang it! What I wouldn’t give for a honey glazed ham with a side a’ mashed potatoes right now...</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>October 2nd</strong>
</p>
<p>Ugh. These gnomes are so dang clingy. I can’t get a second to myself. Escaping is dang near impossible. There’s always one or two or <strong>SIX</strong> of ‘em right behind me, waiting with eager, pursed lips. And after I’ve told them time and time again that I am <em>not</em> that type of girl!</p>
<p>Jeffrey is by far the worst of them all. Always caressing my hand or wigglin’ his eyebrows at me. Well no sir, mister. I don’t care how shiny that ring is— ten feet away at all times means <em>ten feet away at all times</em>.</p>
<p>I’ve had to slap him at least twenty-six times in the last hour. The creepy lil’ louse! Dogs don’t drool half as much as he does. Imagine bein’ so disgustingly desperate.</p>
<p>...</p>
<p>SHADDUP, YOU STUPID JUDGEMENTAL JOURNAL!!</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>October 3rd</strong>
</p>
<p>Oh lordy, what a day. A long, painful, utterly miserable day.</p>
<p>So I finally found an opportunity to try sneaking off today. Those gnomes wouldn’t unglue themselves from my side, so this morning I sweetly batted my eyes at Jeffrey, asking him if he and his men would travel far yonder on a quest for me. Once he picked his jaw up off the floor he vigorously nodded. I still got it.</p>
<p>I sent ‘em off to pick some dandelions for my hair. Specifically ones that only grow on the other side of town, near the sewage dump.</p>
<p>Which is hilarious given that no plants have been able to grow near that dump for the past twenty years or so.</p>
<p>Thank goodness they’re all several crayons short of a box I thought to myself as I waved them off. Then I grabbed my schoolbag and made a break for it. A real challenge in heels, but I still managed to make it back to the glen. Once there I pulled out the pouch of fairy dust, finally ready to magic myself out of my disguise. That’s when I heard their ravenous growls approaching.</p>
<p>Apparently they didn’t get too far before realizing their bride had up and high tailed it outta there.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>I shrieked, dropping my backpack as tiny, screeching little old men began dropping from the trees. Good lord, they were practically foaming at the mouth. They were like rabid wolves! Except somehow even hairier and more foul smelling. Jeffrey in particular was steaming mad. I’d never seen him with such a wild look in his beady eyes. He'd gone plum crazy.</p>
<p>“How dare you run out on us!? I thought what we had was special!”</p>
<p>Hoo boy. I tried to salvage the situation by forcing the most sugary sweet tone I could muster. “Of course, darlin,’ a course! But ya see... well— it’s not <em>ya’ll</em>, it’s <em>me.</em> I’m not ready to settle down quite yet. I wanna focus on my career, y’see?”</p>
<p>Nope. They weren’t buyin’ it.</p>
<p>Jeffrey seethed with anger. Then they did just about the most bizarre thing I’d seen in quite a while. Ol’ Gravity Falls can’t ever be normal, now can it?</p>
<p>Every single one of those d-grade, wannabe leprechauns started crawlin’ all over each other like a colony of angry fire ants. They scrambled about, climbing up on one another’s tiny shoulders until they built themselves up into one gigantic, snarling gnome. It was as silly as it was monstrous.</p>
<p>Darn it. If only I’d thought to bring my dog whistle.</p>
<p>I tried to make another desperate break for it, but they caught me fast in their weird... gnomey hands? I swear, if I hadn’t lived through this myself, I’d think the whole thing was too dumb even for <em>this</em> town.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Jeffrey sat at the very top of this unholy gnome goliath, grinning down at me like a tiny madman. All I could do was squirm in their collective grasp.</p>
<p>“Honey dumpling...” I tried again rather pathetically. “Can’t we talk about this?”</p>
<p>“Oh no, sweetheart. We’re not losing out on another queen. You’re coming back with us whether you like it or not!”</p>
<p>I felt a wave of dread wash over me. I was really in it deep, wasn’t I? I’d completely underestimated those little fools. Jeffrey cackled as the beast carried me off, leaving thunderous footsteps in its wake. Several trees toppled right over in the monster's careless rampage, yet despite all this racket, there was still no one from town coming to help me.</p>
<p>They were <em>never</em> coming, were they?</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Suddenly instead of Jeff and his cluster of gnomes, I saw myself.</p>
<p>My horrible, power mad self in my Gideon bot, with Mabel held tightly in my metallic grip.</p>
<p>Mercy me, it’s no dang wonder she’s disgusted every time she sees me. It’s no wonder nobody’s eager to save me either or why mother's too afraid to even look me in the eye. I really am a monster, I thought. Rotten to the very core. In that moment I wished those gnomes would have squeezed tight and crushed me. Would have served me right.</p>
<p>Just as I was wallowing in self-pity, resigning myself to my gnomey fate, Jeffrey suddenly cried out in agony. I looked up to find that several birds were flapping around his face, trying to peck at his eyes. That wasn’t all. A bunch a squirrels and chipmunks made their way up the rest of the goliath, clawing and biting any gnome they could get at.</p>
<p>Oh, bless their hearts! My darlin’ little animal companions. This must have been their way of showing gratitude after I let them have all those berries I couldn’t stomach.</p>
<p>Those gnomes flailed their tiny arms about, tryin’ to swat the critters away, but to no avail. Soon their entire ridiculous structure fell to pieces, with little men plummeting every which way from the sky. Would have been quite the amusing sight if it didn’t mean <em>I</em> was sent plummeting down to Earth as well.</p>
<p>Thankfully more birds flew in, catching my dress in their adorable little beaks. They flapped their tiny wings as hard as they could, somehow hoisting me up in the air and dropping me gently onto the waiting ground. Oh, I coulda’ kissed every one of 'em if it weren't for the fact that they were probably riddled with disease.</p>
<p>The gnomes all groaned, writhing on the ground in pain as they attempted to gather themselves up again. Doggone Jeffrey was the first to shake off his dizziness, and he made a beeline right for me.</p>
<p>That’s when I noticed the pouch of fairy dust nearby, innocently lying on the ground by my foot. I must have still had it on my person during the whole struggle, and it only just now fell out of the folds of my dress. Wasn’t that just perfect?</p>
<p>I snatched it up and chucked it right at Jeffrey’s head, givin’ him an entire face full of glittery dust. “You want a queen so badly? Then take up the reins yourself, hon!”</p>
<p>An explosion of eye piercing sparkles soon followed. Once the smoke cleared, my getup was gone. Poofed clean away. Now Jeffrey was the one in the gown, and he stood there stupefied, blinking his now long, luscious eyelashes in sheer confusion.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>The rest of his motley crew took one look at the new bride and were immediately enamored.</p>
<p>“No! NO! Guys, it’s me!” Jeffrey shouted as they advanced on him, several somehow already having flowers in their hands. “Steve! Carson! Shmebulock! <em>C’mon!”</em></p>
<p>He grabbed the hem of his new dress and dashed off, screaming as his army of would be suitors followed.</p>
<p>Thank goodness. Finally, that whole mess was over. To think, if I hadn’t gotten involved in that ridiculous gnome business, I could have already been halfway across the country starting a new life. But no. I was stranded in the forest instead. My backpack long gone, so I had no money, no phone, no food. And I sure as heck wasn’t gonna risk heading back into the glen to look for it, what with all the amorous little men still crawlin’ around.</p>
<p>I bid farewell to the forest critters, making a mental note to myself to bring a truckload of nuts and birdseed the next time I ever decided to visit. Then I began the long, humiliating trek back home, tail between my legs. What other choice did I have?</p>
<p>What a perfectly miserable end to this miserable day. I contemplated tossing myself into the river instead.</p>
<p>I rounded a corner, leaving the forest and following the gravel path back into town. But then you’ll never guess who I came face to face with. Little miss golden spoon herself— that confounded Northwest girl! Well shoot, isn’t that nice? Only took her nearly a week is all. What’d she do, stop for tea and biscuits at Buckingham palace before rememberin’ I’d taken a gnome army shaped bullet for her?</p>
<p>For some odd reason she was armed with a golf club of all things. She came barreling madly down the path, lettin’ out a war cry with the darn thing held high. Nearly scared me half to death. Thankfully she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me, lowering the club down sheepishly.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“W-wha..? It’s you?” she blinked a good several times, sounding completely befuddled. “But I thought— didn’t those creeps, like... take you away somewhere or something?”</p>
<p>I took a breath, simply relieved that my face wasn’t at the mercy of a golf club’s beating. “They certainly did,” I replied as politely as I could despite my heart still beating wildly in my ears. “I managed to escape.”</p>
<p>She blinked several more times. If I had to guess, the metaphorical hamster wheel in her blonde head was having trouble keeping up. “...oh.” she finally said, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink in embarrassment.</p>
<p>Had she been coming to rescue me <em>on her own?</em> Why the heck hadn’t she brought a mob of townsfolk like I figured any sane kid would?</p>
<p>I asked her just that, but regretted it immediately upon hearing her answer. Daddy had apparently tried puttin’ up lost child posters throughout town, but most (if not all) were simply torn down and tossed into the garbage.</p>
<p>Ouch.</p>
<p>Yeah, I suppose it’s well deserved, but still... ouch.</p>
<p>The Northwest girl must have noticed what a gut punch that had been to my ego, ‘cause she started backpeddlin’ real fast.</p>
<p>“H-hey, it’s ok! ...look, I.. I’m not really all that popular around Gravity Falls anymore either.”</p>
<p>She rubbed her arm dejectedly, turning her gaze down towards the ground. “I mean. I’m still super rich. Just not <em>as</em> rich. ...plus my family’s kind of awful. Everybody in town knows now, so...” she bit her lip. “Not a lot of people really wanna be seen with me anymore.”</p>
<p>I raised an eyebrow at this. “No foolin’?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” she shrugged. “...you know what that’s like too, right?”</p>
<p>I suppose I did.</p>
<p>She cleared her throat, attempting to start over again from the top. "You're that weird Gleeful kid, right? The one who went to jail? ...I always heard people say that you’re, like. Literally the devil.”</p>
<p>Goodness me, these Northwests sure do know how to flatter folks, don’t they?</p>
<p>“But!” she must have caught the split second pout that had appeared on my face. “...maybe you’re not so bad since you helped me out?”</p>
<p>The gal offered up a cautious, yet amiable smile. Then, to my shock, she held out her hand to me. Embarrassingly I flinched at first, afraid she was aiming to hit me in the face or throw something at me like the kids at school have been so apt to do for the past weeks. But no. It was nothing but a simple handshake.</p>
<p>“I’m Pacifica Northwest," she announced rather proudly. "You probably already know that, since I’m so popular. But yeah, whatever. Point is, it’s nice to meet you.”</p>
<p>It <em>was?</em></p>
<p>I tried my darnest to compose myself. For goodness sakes, Gleeful, the last thing you needed was to make an absolute fool outta yourself in front of a member of the (formally) most influential family in town. “Oh, I... gracious me, that’s awful sweet of ya, hon.”</p>
<p>I raised a tentative hand myself. Maybe the gal was bein’ sincere. Maybe she<em> was </em>pleased to meet me. Heck, maybe this was the start of an honest to goodness friendship.</p>
<p>Friendship, I thought. Goodness me. I’d never had a friend my own age before. Well, close to my age, at least. Sure, I had lackies and henchmen, but that was different. Having an alley at school could actually make life just a tiny bit bearable again.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>...wait.</p>
<p>No. I <em>did</em> have a friend near my own age once, and I had ruined it spectacularly. I had someone who was perfectly willing to be my pal. My makeover buddy. My playmate. But I spat their goodwill right back in their kind hearted face. Surely I would mess up again.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>I retracted my hand, and Pacifica blinked at me, utterly perplexed.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>I didn’t even give her a proper answer. Without thinking I bolted from the spot. Looking back on it, it was awfully rude of me. Poor gal must have been confused outta her mind. So much for not making a fool out of myself.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>DARN IT.</p>
<p>GOSH HUCKLEBERRY HONEY SUCKLE DARN IT.</p>
<p>I'm such a goldarned mess.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Therapy Session</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>October 4th</strong>
</p><p>Soon as I warily trudged through the door yesterday, daddy scooped me up in a big ol’ bear hug. Nearly crushed my spine. I swear, the man don’t know his own strength. I almost pushed him away, as old habits die hard, but reminded myself that I’d sworn to be more patient with him. <strike>Plus I think I needed a hug anyway</strike>.</p><p>“Boy, don’t you ever go runnin’ off like that again,” he scolded as he squeezed me tight. “Ya had your mother and I worried sick!”</p><p>I seriously doubted it when it came to mother. But at least daddy had always been painfully forgiving of my... less than tolerable behavior, let’s put it that way. I honestly don’t know if it’s unconditional love, or if he’s just a glutton for punishment.</p><p>I gave him a weak pat on the shoulder, mumbling an apology. He was satisfied with that.</p><p>Honestly, I’m probably gonna try runnin’ away again soon. Despite these new unfamiliar twangs of guilt I felt for daddy, I still can’t bear to live in this miserable town no more. Especially since I was supposed to have started goin' back to school the previous Monday. I’m sure my classmates have been missin’ their old spitball target.</p><p>As daddy put me down, I caught sight of a strange gift basket sitting on the coffee table with a silver ‘Congratulations’ balloon tied to its woven handle. Daddy must have noticed, ‘cause he scrambled to place himself in front of it, hiding it from my view.</p><p>“Father. What is that?”</p><p>He took out a napkin to wipe his sweating brow. “Oh? T-that? Why, it’s nothing, son! Just a lil’ gift from the neighbors.”</p><p>I furrowed an eyebrow. “The tag says it’s from Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland.”</p><p>“W-what?! Why no, don’t be silly, boy! It’s.. it’s from— uh.” A bit of silence passed between us before he abruptly gave up and tossed the thing right out the window. “What basket?” he asked innocently.</p><p>After givin’ him a stern look, he caved in and admit that when he first called the police to report I’d gone missing, they’d sent him that gift basket rather than going out to search for me. Daddy promised that he didn’t want to accept it. It’s just that the chocolates they included happened to be really good.</p><p>Y’know what? I couldn’t even muster up the energy to be angry no more. I was just tired.</p><p>I went sulking up to my room without another word and went to bed.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>October 5th</strong>
</p><p>First day back at school. Oh goodie gum drops.</p><p>Luckily it went better than I thought it would. The bar wasn’t set terribly high though, but whatever.</p><p>I walked in to find the usual gratified insults on both my locker and desk. Same hateful glares and unpleasant hand gestures lobbed at me as I walked down the halls. Goodness, kids today are vulgar. ...adults too, given I also got them from the teachers. Terribly unprofessional.</p><p>Aside from that, my classmates seem to prefer simply avoiding me now rather than actively antagonizing me. That’s better, I guess? I suppose after seeing me beat up three kids, one of which being twice my size, most of the others wisely figured that it’d be safer for them not to anger the bull anymore.</p><p>Hey, that’s perfectly fine with me. I’ll take being alienated over picked on any day.</p><p>I think the only real bad part of the day was when I caught sight of the Northwest girl. Or rather, she caught sight of me. Gravity Falls Junior High is right next door to the elementary school, and apparently the Northwest girl’s lunch period is around the same time as mine.</p><p>Both schools give their students the option to sit indoors in the cafeteria or outdoors at picnic tables. Naturally no one was willing to make room for me at any of the tables both inside and out, so I sat alone on the grass with my plastic lunchbox, eating my gummy koalas and sandwich with the crusts cut off in peace.</p><p>That, <em>of course</em>, was how she saw me.</p><p>Lordy, how mortifying. As if I hadn’t made enough of a fool out of myself in front of that rich gal before. I scooped up my lunchbox and made a mad dash into the nearby janitor’s closet. I must have startled the poor man somethin’ awful.</p><p>Hoo boy, I’m just the walking embodiment of dignity nowadays, ain’t I?</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>October 7th</strong>
</p><p>Those annoyin’ Corduroy brothers followed me home today.</p><p>Or, rather, they followed me from a safe distance across the street while hurlin’ insults at me. How courageous of them.</p><p>
  
</p><p>I turned the other cheek, all saint-like and mature, but even after three blocks they persisted. I could feel my patience slowly wearing thin. It was when they starting hurlin’ more than just insults that I finally cracked. They shoulda stuck to their empty little words, ‘cause once I felt a stone bounce off my hair, all bets were off. I turned right to 'em and gave them my darkest, nastiest death glare.</p><p>The kinda glare that asks “So where do ya’ll wanna be buried? The cemetery or the sea?”</p><p>The three of ‘em flinched, but tried to remain unaffected. The middle one in particular (Kevin, I think his name is) wasn’t looking to back down. The cocky lil’ son of a gun took a challenging step forward.</p><p>How cute, I thought. He thinks he’s got guts.</p><p>I took a step forward myself, far more as a warning than a challenge, and it sent the brothers scampering off with their tails between their legs.</p><p>I felt pretty smug about it for all of four seconds before I remembered, oh yeah. I’m supposed to be changing for the better, aren’t I? Darn it.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>October 9th</strong>
</p><p>Ghost Eyes dropped in to visit today. He and the fellas have been real worried about me, bless their hearts. Soon as he came stomping into my room, he pulled my vanity chair over to my bed and sat himself down. He’s a large man, so it was a bit of a squeeze for him. Nevertheless, it didn’t do nothin’ to hinder his serious glare.</p><p>“Talk to me, brother.”</p><p>I sighed. “Oh Ghost Eyes. I hate to have ya see me like this.”</p><p>He stretched out an enormous, but gentle, understanding hand to pat my shoulder. Dang it, he’s so good at gettin’ me to spill my guts out.</p><p>And spill my guts out I did. I told him everything. School, the nightmares, my attempt at running away. He made me promise never to try that again, by the way. He says I may be the boss, but am still a minor at the end of the day. Even when I assured him I’d brought knives, he still fretted over me. Such an angel, this man.</p><p>As I rambled he quietly put on his reading glasses and whipped out a small notepad. Every now and then he’d give a nod, all stone faced and thoughtful. Why, he looked like a regular Sigmund Freud. If Freud had been enormously beefy and had a mullet, that is.</p><p>
  
</p><p>He's not just content with his philosophy major anymore. Now he's takin' night classes to get a degree on psychology as well, 'cause he wants to become a counselor. I tell ya, I’m mighty proud of him. Even though I don’t think talking really helped me none, at least my laundry list of issues gave my hench-angel some much needed practice.</p><p>“So what’s your diagnosis, doc?” I asked at the end of our impromptu session.</p><p>Solemnly he closed his notebook and removed his glasses. “I think you’re doing better than you think you are, G-Dog.”</p><p>I scoffed. “Oh, am I now?”</p><p>“You are,” he assured me. “It’s gonna be tough, but you’re man enough to do it.”</p><p>I wanted so much to believe him. The old me wouldn’t have even needed such reassurance. If there was one thing I always used to have in abundance, it was confidence. But now? Not so much.</p><p>He must have sensed my doubt, 'cause he then reached over and picked me right up off the bed in his big meaty hands. I tried to put on my best pout, but he ignored it, giving my hair a light tussle. He’s lucky he’s the only person on Earth I’d ever let get away with doing so.</p><p>
  
</p><p>“You did wrong, G-dog. You’ve acknowledged it, and that’s a good first step. But you shouldn’t let your mistakes govern the rest of your life.”</p><p>“They’re pretty big mistakes though,” I countered softly.</p><p>“Yeah. But you got time on your side,” he said as he placed me on his lap. “Decades to grow. Get better. Learn to love yourself and others.”</p><p>I felt my eyes water a little and gave his arm a squeeze. “...what if I can’t? What if I really am just rotten to the core?”</p><p>“You’re not,” he said simply. Like it was a cold hard fact that he adamantly believed. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how he, or anybody, can see such good in me. Regardless, I let him hold me for a while, enjoying the warmth of his comforting arms. Even if I didn’t really deserve it, I just wanted to feel wanted and loved right then.</p><p>“Tell you what,” Ghost Eyes whispered. “You keep at it, and I’ll get ya something special.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I’ll take ya to get your first tattoo.”</p><p>My eyes immediately lit up like a kid’s on Christmas morning. Dang it, the man knows me too well. "Deal."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Cherry Pie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>October 10th</strong>
</p>
<p>I coulda’ sworn someone was following me after school today. I thought for sure it was those sorry Corduroy boys again, but every time I turned around I couldn’t find hide nor hair of ‘em. Either they’ve gotten a lot better at bein’ stealthy (which I doubt), or it was something else tailing me entirely.</p>
<p>This is precisely why you always gotta carry a blunt object with ya in this town.</p>
<p>I never figured out what was stalking me, but holy moly— when I turned back around, that crazed prospector lookin’ fella scared the living daylights outta me!</p>
<p>“WATCH OUT!!” he screeched like some unholy banshee. Nearly sent me flying backwards onto my behind.</p>
<p>What the heck is that looney old man even still doin’ wandering around town anyway?! Ain’t he supposed to be some kinda rich big shot now, living in the old Northwest mansion? Does he stroll about among the common folk nowadays ‘cause he’s bored?</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“Keep your guard up, youngin,” he went on, giving my shoulders a good shake. “There’s eeeeevil afoot!”</p>
<p>Then he did an odd jig, which he assured me was a ‘jig of grave danger.’ I had neither the time nor patience for his shenanigans, so I just backed away slowly and crossed to the other side of the street. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live somewhere dull n’ normal.</p>
<p>Other than that nonsense, it’s been same old, same old. I’ve been keeping up with doin’ chores around the house for weeks now, in the vain attempt to win mother over. I wash the dishes every night for her. Sometimes I offer to cook dinner too. I’ve also tended to the garden and kept the hedges trimmed. Even went as far as adding some tasteful cherub sculptures out there.</p>
<p>It’s just a shame my beautiful yard work got destroyed one night by a bunch of neighborhood vandals. I got my boys to track those sorry hoodlums down and teach them a painful lesson, but it still stung somethin’ awful to see my art torn to pieces like that. We really need to invest in an electric fence.</p>
<p>Yard aside, the windows have never been more spotless either. I even put doilies in places that lacked ‘em. The only thing I still haven’t been able to do is vacuum the house since mother always has a vice grip on the thing.</p>
<p>At this point I don’t even want affection from the woman. I’d be happy with just a meager “Howdy son.” <em>Any</em> tiny hint that she tolerates me... even a little.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>October 12th</strong>
</p>
<p>I changed things up a little today. Instead of moping around eatin’ ice cream in my room, I moped around and ate ice cream in the living room. Gave myself a little change of scenery.</p>
<p>Daddy was pleased to see me out and about. He took a seat next to me on the couch, and we both watched some mind numbing television together for a while. It was kinda nice. Like we actually bonded or something.</p>
<p>A real ominous news bulletin quickly put a damper on things though. The afternoon old timey movie marathon was interrupted quite bluntly by Sandra Jimenez’s concerned face.</p>
<p>“Breaking news! Reports of missing children have grown rampant! As of this filming, a total of eight local children have been abducted from their very homes.”</p>
<p>Daddy’s eyes widened at that. “Goodness gracias!”</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Jimenez continued as photos of all the missing kids began bein’ displayed beside her. Most of them I’d never met, but to my surprise they included all three Corduroy brothers, and— the Northwest girl? Again?! Shoot, her family oughta put a bell on her.</p>
<p>“If any of our viewers have information on any of these missing children, we urge you to call your local authorities and this very news station. ...now here’s Bodacious T with sports.”</p>
<p>Daddy changed the channel at that point, having grown several shades paler. “I swear, this town! If I’d a’known it’d be so dangerous here, we’d a’ stayed back in Louisiana.”</p>
<p>He was so rattled, he made me swear not to open the door to any strangers. Ha. Like he’s got any reason to worry. I learned how to break a man’s hand in seven different places back in prison. There ain’t no child abductor alive that can stand a chance against lil ol’ me.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>October 13th</strong>
</p>
<p>Yesterday’s bulletin left me wonderin’ about who, or <em>what</em>, the perpetrator of the kidnappings could possibly be. In any normal town it’d be your run a’ the mill twisted human, but this here is Gravity Falls. Nine outta ten times, the cause for anything here is most certainly supernatural.</p>
<p>Right off the bat I ruled out vampires. Their victims wouldn’t be missing if that were the case. No, instead they’d simply become the walking undead with tiny bite marks on their necks. Same with werewolves. The kids would still be around, just hairier and more rabid.</p>
<p>The most likely candidate, I decided, had to be witches. It <em>was</em> October, after all. Season of the witch and all that. Those hags historically have an odd thing for kidnapping kids ‘round this time a’ year. Whether to eat them or for sick kicks.</p>
<p>I started gathering up some basic anti-witch tools, just in case. Now the only sure-fire way that I know kills a witch for certain is fire. Unfortunately daddy got rid of our flamethrower years ago after the... incident. He completely overacted, by the way. It wasn’t <em>that</em> bad. And the damage to the gazebo was minimal at best. Either way, fire was out.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Ah well. I still had plenty of other methods. Holy water, regular water (if that melting thing wasn’t just a bunch of Hollywood malarkey that is) and a big ol’ pack of salt to draw circles with on the ground. I tell ya, sometimes the supernatural have the silliest weaknesses.</p>
<p>I was so engrossed in puttin’ together my emergency witch provisions that I almost didn’t hear mother’s voice calling me from the kitchen.</p>
<p>Wait.</p>
<p>
  <em>Mother’s voice?!</em>
</p>
<p>But... she hasn’t willingly spoken to me since I was eight years old.</p>
<p>I had to do several double-takes. Surely I must have heard wrong. I poked my head out from the top of the staircase and hesitantly answered. “Yes..?”</p>
<p>There was no doubt in my mind that I’d receive no answer back. The first time had to have simply been my imagination and nothing more.</p>
<p>“Would ya come down here, sugar-pie?”</p>
<p>Holy June bugs dancin’ in April— she <em>was</em> calling me!</p>
<p>I bolted downstairs, dang near almost tripping over myself. I felt an odd feeling of anticipation and hope welling up inside my chest. I entered the kitchen to find mother standing there, with an honest to goodness smile on her face. One that was warm rather than twitching at the seams with unbridled fear.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“Mama baked you some pie, sweetheart.”</p>
<p>I stared at her with my mouth hangin’ open, like I was aimin’ to catch flies. I looked a dang fool. I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing— what I’d heard. Maybe this was another nightmare about to turn ugly. It had to be.</p>
<p>Mother continued to smile and pulled a chair out for me at the table. “C’mon now, darlin’... while it’s still warm out of the oven.”</p>
<p>I silently complied, still not knowing what to say.</p>
<p>It smelled mighty good, but even as I dove my fork into the slice she’d cut for me, I kept my eyes fixated on her. Along with her serene expression, her entire posture had also drastically changed. She was actually standing upright rather than curving inwards in a nervous slouch. Her hands weren’t shaking either. Not even when I first entered the kitchen. It was like some kind of honest to goodness miracle.</p>
<p>I put the fork to my lips and took a bite.</p>
<p>Saints alive, it was delicious! I scarfed down several more bites, half because it was so dang good, and half to show her how grateful I was.</p>
<p>She let out an airy chuckle. The likes of which I hadn’t heard out of her in years. Gingerly she placed a hand onto my head and began petting my hair.</p>
<p>I gazed up at her in wide-eyed disbelief. “Mother... are you.. all right?”</p>
<p>She nodded sweetly, never stopping her affectionate petting. “Yes darlin, mama’s fine.”</p>
<p>I blinked twice, still not believing this moment was even real. “You’re... not afraid of me?”</p>
<p>My voice became gradually weaker as I asked, deathly afraid of what her answer would be. But shockingly she shook her head, her smile becoming even softer. “Not no more.”</p>
<p>She hovered over me, her tone even and calm. “You’ve been working real hard, haven’t you, sugar? You’ve made me so proud.”</p>
<p>This wasn’t a dream. I really was sitting in the kitchen with my mother, and she was speaking to me. Looking at me with love and affection in her eyes rather than terror or hatred. Like we were a normal parent and child.</p>
<p>I felt a lump form in my throat as I let my fork drop onto my plate. “Mama, I...”</p>
<p>My hands began to tremble, and I felt the onset of tears start prickling at my eyes. All at once I started crying, and the doggone tears just wouldn’t stop. “M-mama, I... I’m so.. sorry...”</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>I was such a mess. I let my head fall onto the table and wept, ashamed.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, mama... I’m sorry... you deserved a better son...”</p>
<p>I could still feel her stroking my hair, and vaguely heard her voice softly shushing me. “There, there. It’s all right, darlin. Hush now.”</p>
<p>Out of the blue, as the sobs wracking my body started to quiet themselves, I began to realize that my eyes felt oddly heavy. A strange, soothing warmth began to course through me, and I drew my head back to yawn. Then I yawned again.</p>
<p>My arm became harder to lift. As did the rest of my limbs. Why did I feel so goldarn tired all of a sudden? Was it the milk? A warm glass of milk always did put me out like a light, but that only worked during bedtime, not early afternoon. It was alarming just how fast I suddenly felt myself fading. That and mother’s voice also seemed to be lulling me off to sleep.</p>
<p>Then all at once it began to dawn on me.</p>
<p>No. Oh no.</p>
<p>How could I be so dang gullible?!</p>
<p>Gideon, you moron! You absolute idiot! For cryin’ out loud, just minutes ago you were preparing yourself for this very situation, and now look at yourself! Walking into the most obvious trap in the world! Like some fat, hungry rabbit hopping right into a cage with a dangling carrot.</p>
<p>“Mother” never stopped grinnin’ down at me. I can only imagine how plum pleased she was with how easy it was to catch her prey.</p>
<p>This had to be the culprit. The one behind all the missing kids. And now my foolish pie loving self was about to become just another face on the news.</p>
<p>My vision grew blurrier with each passing second. The panic swept in even faster. I staggered out of my chair, wobbling on my feet as I tried in vain to run. It was far too late for that though. I swear, I could already feel whatever poison this witch had baked into the pastry sitting thick and heavy in my stomach.</p>
<p>With a groan I dropped to the kitchen floor in a heap. The fork in my hand clattering onto the tile with tiny bits of pie still clinging to it.</p>
<p>What a sucker I was. I should have known better than to think mother would ever forgive me.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Words of Comfort</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>October 13th (Continued)</strong>
</p>
<p>I was overwhelmed with fear during my last few precious moments of consciousness. What was this witch aiming to do to me? Was she gonna stick an apple in my mouth and cook me over an open flame like a roast pig? Or was she gonna stick me in a large pot and boil me alive in her oven? Maybe she’d cut me up into tiny pieces and fry me on a skillet instead?!</p>
<p>Oh curse these plump rosy cheeks of mine and these fat little limbs! I must look like an all you can eat buffet to a witch.</p>
<p>Much to my relief I was still alive when I woke up, but a whole new horror was awaitin’ me instead.</p>
<p>Right away I felt like something was wrong. Real wrong.</p>
<p>I was sittin’ at a tiny table with an even tinier tea set laid out in front of me. I was wearin’ a baby bonnet and some sorta old timey white pajama gown adorned with a large bow on the front. That was concerning enough on it’s own, but it paled in comparison to my next observation.</p>
<p>Try as hard as I could, for some reason I couldn’t move my fingers! They were stiffer than my daddy’s back when he tries gettin’ up off the couch. Not only could I not bend ‘em, I couldn’t separate them either. I banged my hand on the little table and heard the sickening plink of hard plastic.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Lord help me, <em>all</em> of me was hard plastic!</p>
<p>I had shrunken down and turned into a doll—a <em>literal</em> doll!</p>
<p>Around me at the table were all the rest of the missing kids. The Northwest girl sat beside me in a garish hot pink dress, with a beauty queen sash around her shoulders and a glittery plastic tiara atop her head. She was a dead ringer for that popular blonde fashion doll you always see in stores. Darbie or Bimbie or something.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>A couple a’ rag dolls sat at the table too, clinging to each other and shaking like frightened rattle snake tails. Further down were two more terrified dolls. A ballerina and a fairy. More of the missing kids, I figured.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Even the Corduroy boys were there. All three of ‘em were lined up, rigid and whimpering. They’d been transformed into tin soldiers, complete with them funny tall hats you always see in the movies.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>What a horrifying sight we were. I spit out the pacifier that was stuffed in my mouth and screamed, but was quickly shushed by the others.</p>
<p>“Shut up,” the middle Corduroy hissed through quivering teeth. “She’ll come back in here!”</p>
<p>It didn’t take a brain surgeon to know who he meant.</p>
<p>Defiantly I slammed both my plastic hands onto the table and rose up, albeit rather awkwardly, what with the new doll body and everything. “Do I look like I care?! She can go suck a lemon, <em>I’m gettin’ out of here!</em>”</p>
<p>I made a mad rush for the door. The other kids must have come back to their senses, cause they followed suit right after me, hopping on their frozen legs to possible freedom. Unfortunately for us, the door flew open and we were greeted by a terribly unwelcome sight.</p>
<p>“Going somewhere?” an old woman cooed, in what I assumed must have been this shape shifting demon’s regular form.</p>
<p>We froze, petrified where we stood, but I managed to gather up some courage and speak out.</p>
<p>“Let us out of here!” I demanded. Though the baby bonnet most definitely took away any shred of bite my bark might have had.</p>
<p>The old crone’s wrinkled mouth twisted up into a smug grin as she looked down at me in amusement. “Aw... cranky, are we? It sounds like somebody needs another nap.”</p>
<p>With an eerie snap of her bony fingers, the lot of us all fell limp onto the floor like real toys.</p>
<p>The others were placed up onto a tall shelf, whereas I on the other hand was stuffed into a tiny wooden crib. The witch cackled as she tucked me in tight, looking just tickled pink as I tried in vain to struggle.</p>
<p>“You... y-you can’t do this to us...” I somehow croaked. “...our folks are.. gonna come lookin’ for us...”</p>
<p>She gave me a condescending bop on the nose. “And just what are they going to find, dearie? Nothing but a sweet old lady’s doll collection.”</p>
<p>With that she rolled her head back and cackled madly, then left the room with a satisfied slam of the door behind her.</p>
<p>Oooooooh. I was MAD.</p>
<p>How dare she? How DARE she?! Making me think she was my own mother— that she actually loved me! That was a low blow. I didn’t know how, but I was gonna fix her good.</p>
<p>My blood was boilin’ I tell ya. Gathering up all the strength I could muster, I urged my body to start movin’ again and started thrashing violently in my baby sized prison. I rocked that stupid crib back and forth until it toppled right over, dumping me out onto the floor. I was free! And all it took was pure spite.</p>
<p>I forced myself back up onto my feet and tried to look up. I say ‘tried’ because I immediately realized that I no longer had the ability to lift my head. My neck had already been pretty nonexistent before, but now it was plum gone. I could barely move my head at all anymore.</p>
<p>Still, I attempted to get the others’ attention anyway.</p>
<p>“HEY! Any of ya’ll still able to move?!” I hollered. There were some grunts high above me. Though I couldn’t see ‘em, I could very well imagine the other kids struggling to move their arms and legs.</p>
<p>“C’mon!” I hollered up again. “Ya really gotta focus hard!”</p>
<p>More grunts and strains. It was real frustrating not being able to see anything, but unfortunately the only option I had was to sit there and wait, hoping they’d get their limbs properly workin’ again. Preferably sooner rather than later.</p>
<p>Oh sure, I could’a probably skedaddled outta there without ‘em, but I had enough bad karma as it was. The entire town already hated the sight of me with a burning passion. No doubt they would happily straight up lynch me if word got out that I did such a thing. ‘Sides, we’d probably find a way outta there faster if we used teamwork and all that goodie goodie hooey.</p>
<p>Finally, after what seemed like ages, I heard the clattering of tiny, awkward footsteps scrambling about. “W-we did it!” cried a voice triumphantly. I recognized it as the Northwest girl’s right away.</p>
<p>There was more clamoring, and I bounced in place excitedly over the small progress they’d made. Now if I could just get myself up there as well. Maybe then we could all put our collective toy heads together and come up with an escape plan.</p>
<p>I noticed there was a dollhouse beside the shelf they’d been placed on. I wobbled over as best I could, climbing up the tiny staircases until I made it all the way up to the roof. From there I could finally see the others. Even though I was almost completely outta breath, I used what little adrenaline I had left to leap over. I almost plummeted right back down to the floor if a group of other tiny hands hadn’t caught mine and pulled me up.</p>
<p>Hoo boy. That was a work out I never intended to do again in my life.</p>
<p>As I feverishly caught my breath, hunched over on my knees in the most undignified manner possible, I felt a hand gently patting my back. I realized the Northwest girl was hovering over me in concern, and I staggered backwards, nearly falling right back off the dang shelf. She raised an eyebrow at me, and I chuckled nervously, mortified at my own jumpiness. Heavens to Betsy, I was still so doggone jittery around her.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, the others had all huddled close together and began bickering over what to do next.</p>
<p>“We gotta sneak past her!”</p>
<p>“How, doofus?! We can barely even walk!”</p>
<p>“Don’t call me doofus, doofus!”</p>
<p>“Shut up!”</p>
<p>“<em>You</em> shut up!”</p>
<p>Ugh. This was goin’ nowhere. I angrily stomped my foot, gettin’ their attention. “All’a you shut up! We’re gonna be stuck in this dollar store toy bin for the rest’a our lives if’in we don’t focus, so pipe down and just do as I say!”</p>
<p>There was dead silence as the other kids stared warily at me. Oh dear. Perhaps I’d come on just a teensy bit too strong, I thought. I backpedaled a bit, offering them a sheepish smile instead. “Uh... please?”</p>
<p>The oldest Corduroy brother stepped forward, lookin’ none too convinced. “And why should we listen to <em>you</em>, diaper dweeb?”</p>
<p>I sighed, shoulders slumping. “Cause I wanna go home as much as ya’ll do.”</p>
<p>They all looked at one another. Seemed most of ‘em would rather chomp on a mound of dirt than take orders from me. Still, even though they weren't pleased about it one bit, there was a silent, reluctant truce formed between us. At least until we got ourselves outta this mess. Then they’d go right back to merrily shunning me as per usual.</p>
<p>After a few minutes of debating amongst each other, we decided our best option was goin’ out the one window that was in this pastel colored nightmare of a room. We hopped off the shelf and over to the desk sitting in front of it, and using our combined strength, we managed to pry it open.</p>
<p>So far so good. And wouldn’t you know it, we were on the first floor too. Our first lucky break all day. Only problem was that with our reduced statures, it was a pretty steep drop. I took a gander back around the room, wonderin’ if there was anything we could use to climb down with. A shoelace, a rubber band, some string. Anything!</p>
<p>None of those things were available, of course, but beside us on the desk were a whole bunch of decorative sock monkeys. They were slightly bigger toys than us, and their bodies were quite long. Maybe, juuuust maybe, they would do the trick instead.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>The others threw weird looks my way as I snatched the monkeys up, but quickly caught onto my plan as I tied each of the things together, lanky arm to tail. Soon we were all frantically tying monkeys together until we had ourselves an odd, yet sturdy plush toy rope.</p>
<p>Securing one end to a desk leg, we lobbed the rope out the window. It just barely made it to the ground. Hoo doggy, this could end up workin’ after all, we all collectively thought. If luck continued bein’ on our side, we’d all be back home safe and cozy by suppertime.</p>
<p>I got ready to climb, only to be rudely shoved outta the way by the rest of the panicky, impatient dolls. For cryin’ out loud, they couldn’t even let our truce last all of fifteen minutes. Buncha ingrates.</p>
<p>The Northwest girl got pushed aside as well, by the two girls I had always assumed were her friends with how often the three were frequently seen together. I guess what she’d told me before was true. She really had grown less popular after losin’ such a huge chunk of her wealth recently.</p>
<p>She and I were the last ones left on the windowsill, watching as the others descended in a hurried frenzy. The youngest Corduroy was the first to reach the bottom, and much to all of our joyous relief, he instantly grew back to his regular size as soon as his feet touched the ground. Seemed that whatever spell that witch had cast on us only remained in effect so long as we were in her lair.</p>
<p>One by one the others transformed back from creepy dolls to children, and the lot of them broke out into a big celebration as each kid made it down. There was hootin’ and hollerin’ all abound, and the Northwest girl and I shared an ecstatic smile between us, relieved that this ordeal was almost over.</p>
<p>Shoot, I reckon that was our first and only interaction so far that wasn’t skin crawlingly awkward.</p>
<p>I’m afraid to say though that we counted our chickens too early, as right as we both got ready to head down ourselves, there was a rattling of a doorknob behind us. The door to the toy room flew open, and hoo boy, lemme tell ya. Our captor was none happy with what she saw.</p>
<p>She shrieked, barreling towards the window. The Northwest girl and I let out screams of our own, desperately scrambling for the rope, but were caught fast in her wrinkled hands before we could follow the others to freedom.</p>
<p>The witch, still clutching us both tight, peered her head out the window with a look of sheer frustration on her pruney face. The kids down below all wailed in terror at the sight of her, and within seconds all scattered off in different directions</p>
<p>She shrieked again, this time in unbridled fury.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“YOU LITTLE BRATS!!”</p>
<p>She pulled her head back into the room and gave the Northwest gal and I an angry shake. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to collect that many dolls?! And in such mint condition?!”</p>
<p>“Oh, lemme play ya a sad song on my tiny violin, hun.”</p>
<p>Her grip on me tightened. Given the growl she gave me, it was safe to say sassin’ her was probably the wrong choice.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The Northwest gal and I soon found ourselves stuffed into bright colorful boxes, taped shut and proudly displayed like we were the newest holiday toys up for sale at a reduced price.</p>
<p>And here I thought the tea party had been degrading.</p>
<p>That’s how the hag left us, trapped and stewing in what were pretty much glorified cages. Hickory smoke dangit, if only we’d been faster instead of lettin’ the others push past us.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“Ugh,” I heard a groan in the cardboard packaging beside mine. “I’m so dumb.”</p>
<p>You’re preachin’ to the choir, I thought to myself. I assumed the witch must have tricked the gal in much’a the same way she did me. By posin’ as her mother and snatching her up when she was at her most vulnerable. Talk about playin’ dirty.</p>
<p>Oh sure, I suppose I’m not one to talk given my own past villainess deeds, but dang it, I’m still gonna be mad as heck about it. Lousy witch.</p>
<p>‘Sides, even if <em>I</em> deserved it, like some sort of divine karmic punishment, I doubt the Northwest girl or any of those other kids did anything nasty enough to get bamboozled like this. Not even the Corduroy boys, as much as it pains me to admit.</p>
<p>I thought hard, tryin’ my darnest to figure out another way outta of this toy aisle of a nightmare. The window was bolted shut now, and even if we could somehow get it open again, our make-shaft rope was gone. And I sure as heck didn’t wanna test how durable my new doll body was by jumping and seein’ if I broke apart when hitting the ground or not.</p>
<p>Yeesh. What a horrifyin’ mental picture.</p>
<p>My morbid little thought was interrupted by an odd sound in the box beside me. Part of me hoped the Northwest girl was merely clearing her throat or holdin’ back a sneeze. But deep down I knew it was probably something I really, really dreaded. She was crying.</p>
<p>“I’m so dumb...” she said again, but this time in a much smaller, much more broken sounding voice.</p>
<p>I cringed. Oh crackerjacks, I was not at all the ‘comforting others’ type. Just what the heck was I supposed to say?</p>
<p>“Nah, hun, you ain’t dumb.” I offered up weakly. “Alla’ us kids got tricked, not just you.”</p>
<p>Panic filled me when a small sniffle answered me back.</p>
<p>“Uh.. hun, you alright?”</p>
<p>Please say yes, I thought. Oh please, oh please just say yes and move on.</p>
<p>“Of <em>course</em> that wasn’t my mom,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “Mom would never say she and dad were sorry.”</p>
<p>There was a broken laugh. “I’m such an idiot. Like we could ever <em>actually</em> be a normal, happy family. I mean, duh, Pacifica. Like they’re really gonna just turn to you one day and be like ‘We’re sorry, Pacifica. We’re gonna treat you better from now on, we promise.’”</p>
<p>Silence followed, but I could still pick up on the soft, strained sounds of her trying to swallow down a sob. Oh heaven help me, my brain screamed. What do I say?</p>
<p>“I... uh...”</p>
<p>Think Gideon, think. Darn it, I just hated this feeling. It was rare when it happened, but when it did, hoo boy, it was not pleasant in the very slightest. This whole ‘feeling bad’ for someone who isn’t <em>me </em>thing. Just what kind of backwards nonsense even is that? Is there even a word for it?</p>
<p>Oh dang it, the silence was lasting far too long. I had to say something.</p>
<p>“You.. your parents... t-they...”</p>
<p>Her parents didn’t seem to treat her right. That much I could gather. Heck, from the sound of it, it seemed they’d done her wrong her whole life. What do you say to a person whose been treated bad by someone who's supposed to love ‘em unconditionally? Like a parent, or... a child.</p>
<p>Oh honey suckle dang it.</p>
<p>I took a breath, and tried to start over as delicately as I could.</p>
<p>“Sometimes... people do horrible things, ‘cause...” My hands clawed desperately at the plastic sheet of paper holding me captive as I spoke. “...cause... cause..”</p>
<p>Memories from what felt like eons ago came flooding into my mind. Memories of how my parents used to coo at me. Pick me up and give me kisses on both sides of my chubby cheeks. How daddy would bounce me on his knee and mama would sing me lil’ songs.</p>
<p>Then I remembered how those moments gradually faded the day that I came home after finding the journal and the amulet. How the more I obsessed over it’s pages and learned to use the amulet’s power, the more I started pushing them away. Yellin’ at them. Scarin’ them. How over time, they didn’t see me as their baby no more, but as a thing to cower at when I came stomping into the house.</p>
<p>“Cause they’re...”</p>
<p>I weakly hit my plastic fists against the sheet, overcome with disgust at myself.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“Cause they’re STUPID<em>.</em>” I blurted out, spitting the word like it was venom. There was a light gasp beside me, but I went on. “They’re STUPID and SELFISH and too dang full’a themselves to realize how good they have it. Or how lucky they are to.. to... have somebody who loves ‘em more than anything.”</p>
<p>You’re such an awful kid, Gideon. The worse kid your parents could have ever been saddled with.</p>
<p>“I... I’m sorry your folks treat ya like they do. You deserve better.”</p>
<p>So did my parents.</p>
<p>Suddenly I noticed that the sheet in front of me had grown somewhat blurry. Then I realized that it was because there were baby doll tears flowing down my plastic face. When in the world had that even started, I vaguely wondered.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“Are... are you ok?” came a concerned voice.</p>
<p>“Y-yes, I’m fine!”</p>
<p>Argh, what the heck was wrong with me?! Why was I such a blubbery mess nowadays? This wasn’t like me at all. I furiously wiped my face with the sleeves of the cutesy doll pajamas I was wearing, trying to save what little face I could. Luckily, given that we were in separate boxes, the Northwest girl at least couldn’t physically see me bawlin’ like the literal overgrown baby I’d been turned into.</p>
<p>–or so I thought.</p>
<p>There was a sound of something tearing, then low and behold, there she was standing right in front of my box! Her tiny tiara was gripped in her hand, and as I stood there confused, stray tears still runnin’ down my face, she used the tip of it to puncture a hole into the clear sheet holding me captive. She sliced a clean line through the plastic and tore it away.</p>
<p>Part of me was grateful. The other part of me was mortified.</p>
<p>I quickly turned away, desperately rubbing at my face. In all my years of acting, I don’t think I ever worked that hard to forcibly compose myself in my life. Even when I felt a light hand rest itself on my shoulder, I kept myself turned away in embarrassment.</p>
<p>“Hey?” said a voice.</p>
<p>Gingerly, yet firmly, she turned me around to face her. I whimpered pathetically, wishin’ there was a hole I could crawl into, but she merely smiled, takin’ off her sash to dab my eyes with.</p>
<p>“It’s gonna be ok. ...we’ll get out of here.”</p>
<p>I'm not gonna lie. I was honestly real taken back by just how warm her words were. After so many months of nothing but well deserved bile and hostility from people both young and old, genuine kindness seemed almost surreal. It caused the most conflicting feelings to swell up inside me.</p>
<p>I sniffled in response, giving a weak nod.</p>
<p>Y'know. Despite the fact that I probably belonged here, it was nothing short of a marvel that this gal still saw it fit to offer me comfort. Even after I'd meekly answered, she continued to wipe my eyes in a motherly fashion.</p>
<p>I decided right then and there that no matter what, even if I didn't make it out myself, I would find a way to get her home. And this time not for any selfish grab at fame or glory, but because it was right.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Bubble, Bubble</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The witch’s house may have only been one story tall, but it was still intimidatingly huge for two such tiny dolls. We certainly had our work cut out for us.</p>
<p>Heck, just gettin’ down to the floor was a challenge in and of itself. I’ve barely ever been good at climbing the monkey bars at school, let alone a giant shelf. You can probably imagine how dang near death defyin’ it was. I practically got down on my knees and kissed the ground once we were safely on it.</p>
<p>Since we couldn’t escape out the window no more, our only option now was the door. But the sheer height of the thing was daunting. We wondered just how the heck we’d even <em>begin</em> to approach the task in front of us.</p>
<p>That was when the Northwest girl noticed the pull string on my back, and suggested we try using it to hook onto the doorknob.</p>
<p>I needed a minute or two to swallow down my abject horror at the revelation on havin’ <em>a dang</em> <em>string sticking outta my back</em>, but once I got over it I starting yanking it out. I can’t even begin to describe just how uncomfortable that was. It wasn’t painful, per say, yet the sensation was still not the least bit pleasant. It was as though my insides were being wrung about within me. I can’t help shuddering slightly just recallin’ it.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Freakiness aside, I pulled out enough of the sting to fashion myself a tiny lasso and aimed for the knob. I caught and hooked it, but didn’t have long to celebrate my tiny accomplishment as my next immediate thought was ‘Now what?”</p>
<p>My gaze turned to the Northwest girl. She seemed to be a step ahead of me, ‘cause she simply looked me in the eye and said, “Let go.”</p>
<p>After a moment’s hesitation, I did so, and very nearly let out a shriek as I was yanked up off the ground to the knob. Once I reached the end of my sting, a voice that wasn’t my own cried out “Mama!” from somewhere inside my chest.</p>
<p>Urrggh.</p>
<p>Of all the spells to be put under, it had to be one as unsettling and creepy as this one, didn’t it? I oughta make myself a supernatural trauma bingo card at this point.</p>
<p>I latched myself onto the knob and turned it. Below me, the Northwest girl got on her knees to reach under the door to slide it open, and just like that our first task was done! Maybe there’s something to this teamwork stuff after all.</p>
<p>The hallway was a vast wasteland of old lady smellin’ furniture. Really, it might as well have been an endless desert given our size. Plus the witch could walk by at a moment’s notice. We felt completely exposed just standing there. I quickly opted to retreat into a mouse hole in the wall, figurin’ it’d be much safer for us to travel the house from behind concrete rather than be completely out in the open.</p>
<p>The Northwest girl, however, was not at all keen on the idea. I practically had to drag her in by the arm as she complained about how revolting it’d be if we ran into something in there. Though if you ask me, I would have much rather taken my chances with a giant rat than with the witch, so the choice was pretty clear.</p>
<p>Still, I suppose she did have a point about it bein’ gross. We luckily didn’t run into any rats, but the roaches and that one hairy spider we passed are most certainly gonna be spoken about between me and my future therapist for years to come.            </p>
<p>Another downside was that we couldn’t really tell where we were headed. Were we near the entrance of the house, or perhaps the kitchen? A bathroom? Linen closet? Heck if we knew.</p>
<p>We tried peerin’ through tiny cracks in the wall, scoping out the area as best we could. We nearly bolted right out of our doll clothes when a giant heel hit the ground in front of us. The witch lumbered by the wall we were hiding in, her gaudy granny pumps leaving behind an earth quaking clack with each step.</p>
<p>From what we could tell there was a large armchair and a long couch in the room, and sitting in the center was an enormous... well shoot, we could really only see the bottom of it, but it was round and charcoal black like a big ol’ piece of coal. The witch stood in front of it, and when we listened hard we could make out the distinct sound of water bubbling. Or at least <em>some</em> sort of liquid bubbling.</p>
<p>Didn’t take long for us to piece together that it was a cauldron.</p>
<p>Oh swell. That could only lead to further bad things.</p>
<p>“Eleanor?” called a voice from within the cauldron. From the sound of it, it was yet another old woman. “Eleanor, dear, is this thing working? I can’t see you.”</p>
<p>The witch let out a tired sigh. “You have to recite the vision spell, Claudia.”</p>
<p>There was a short beat of silence, quickly followed by a cheery, “Oh there you are!”</p>
<p>Old folks and technology, I swear.</p>
<p>“Do you have the dolls, Eleanor? The auction starts in a hour,” the voice in the pot continued. The witch (presumably Eleanor) let out an awkward cough in response.</p>
<p>“Well. You see, dearie. There’s been a bit of a... setback.”</p>
<p>The cauldron voice was <em>not</em> pleased. “Setback?! You had better be joking, Eleanor! Do you have any idea what those bidders are willing to pay us?!”</p>
<p>“I know, I know,” Eleanor shot back. “But unfortunately we’re down to just two now.”</p>
<p>“TWO?!” Claudia screamed. “You can’t be serious!”</p>
<p>Eleanor stomped a foot in annoyance, sending the Northwest girl and I up into the air a few inches. “Look, some of the brats got away from me, all right! The two we’ve got left should still fetch a good price.”</p>
<p>From the silence that followed I can only assume Claudia angrily hung up.</p>
<p>Eleanor grumbled something we couldn’t hear under her breath before marching herself out of the room in a huff, and the Northwest gal and I simultaneously sighed with relief.</p>
<p>Hoo boy were we glad we ditched whatever this “auction” was. Still though, we were far from bein’ home free. We still had to find our way outta this labyrinth of a house before we could even <em>think</em> of celebrating. We took a few more cautious steps in the dimly lit crevice we were in, ready to further wander about in hopes of stumbling onto an exit, when an ear piercing scream wracked the entire building.</p>
<p>Oh dear.</p>
<p>More stomping shook the house, and the sound of various items bein’ thrown about in what we could only guess was a giant fit filled our ears.</p>
<p>“WHERE ARE YOU?!” the witch raged, sounding downright inhuman. “YOU MISERABLE LITTLE VERMIN, <em>WHERE ARE YOU?!”</em></p>
<p>N-now, I wasn’t at all afraid, mind you! Haha, why the very idea. I’ve faced much grislier things, after all. One angry, shrieking witch tearing apart her home in the hopes of snatching us up and selling us on a demonic version of the black market wasn’t gonna rile up Gideon Gleeful, no sir. But the poor Northwest gal must have been petrified. She held onto my shoulders in fear, and not at all because I was shaking uncontrollably and she was tryin’ to calm me down.</p>
<p>The stomping raged on, as it seemed the witch was goin’ from room to room now in her mad attempt to find us.</p>
<p>We couldn’t be certain how safe we’d remain behind the wall. Yet at the same time we didn’t dare budge from our spot, worrying that any tiny noise we made would alert her to our location. All we could think to do was hold our breaths and wait in teeth clenching silence.</p>
<p>Oh lord, what if she found us, I thought. What then?! We had to find some way to at the very least defend ourselves. If only there had been some rusted old nails poking out of that dang wall, or a mousetrap or—shoot, anything!</p>
<p>Mercy me, the witch was nearer now! We could easily hear how heavily she was breathing, that’s how dangerously close she was. We felt like helpless prey just barely outside the line of a predator’s vision.</p>
<p>Then, without warning, she punched her fist against our hiding spot in frustration, and oh goodness—we just couldn’t stop ourselves from letting out startled yelps.</p>
<p>Dang it, dang it, dang it.</p>
<p>We’d really done it now.</p>
<p>The witch turned to the wall in surprise. Slowly her lips curled back up into a familiar smirk, and she let out a dreadfully sinister cackle. “There you are.”</p>
<p>Now again, I wasn’t scared, mind you. I was perfectly calm in that moment. But let’s for a second just say, hypothetically, that if I <em>had</em> been frightened (which I wasn’t), I would have felt my heart drop into my stomach.</p>
<p>I think the witch muttered something else, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of what it was. I’m willin’ to bet it was some sorta incantation though, ‘cause a strange sizzling noise followed. Endless lines of cracks began to appear in the concrete, slowly chipping it away until a large chunk of the wall crumbled right to dust, revealing the two of us standing there, small, shocked and exposed.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Eleanor towered over us, her right hand held out in front of her and bathed in an ominous glow.</p>
<p>She wasn’t even a fraction of her previous put together self. Her once neat little old lady hair bun was a stringy mess, with stray locks falling out every which way. Her once rounded, deceptively kind looking face contorted into a long, nightmarish horror, with her nose, chin, and even fingers becoming elongated, each curling out into menacing points.</p>
<p>Now <em>that</em> was a more traditional witch look. Heck, maybe that had actually been her true, <em>true</em> form all along. If it was, I can certainly see why she opted to hide it.</p>
<p>I heard the Northwest girl let out another scream from beside me, but I managed to stifle my own down, remembering what I had promised myself earlier. As Eleanor began to take a threatening step towards us, I shoved the Northwest girl back into the part of the wall that wasn’t a crater.</p>
<p>She gave me a look that was equal parts confused and outraged. “What’re you—?!”</p>
<p>“<em>RUN</em>,” I hissed at her through my teeth before dashing out straight to Eleanor. I decided I would distract the hag and let her catch me, giving the Northwest girl the chance to hide again inside the walls and keep on looking for a way out.</p>
<p>I stumbled into a clumsy summersault, slipping right between an annoyed Eleanor’s legs. She frantically shot after me as I continued rolling.</p>
<p>“LITTLE BOY,” she snarled. “YOU ARE TRYING MY NERVES.”</p>
<p>My plastic little body came to a stop in front of the large pot still smack dab in the middle of the room. I shook off my dizziness and stood up on wobbly toy legs, using the pot to lean on, but quickly recoiled my hand back in pain as the doggone thing was as hot as a boiling teakettle. Eleanor, practically foaming madly at the mouth at this point, snapped me right up and gave me an angry squeeze.</p>
<p>“Gotcha, you little piglet!”</p>
<p>Y’know, kidnappin’ is one thing, but there ain’t no need for such rudeness.</p>
<p>I put on a show of struggling. The longer she believed I wasn’t aiming to get myself caught, the more time the Northwest girl had of gettin’ away. If she were smart she would’a been halfway to the other side of the house by now. My hope was that she’d find a hole to sneak out of leading to the outdoors, perhaps left behind by a raccoon or something.</p>
<p>I on the other hand? I was better off bein’ a toy forever, auctioned off and added to some big shot demon’s collection of eternally frozen children. Would’a been a fitting end for me, really. Gettin’ done in by my whole cuteness shtick? Real poetic justice if there ever was any.</p>
<p><strike>Mama and daddy would be better off</strike>.</p>
<p>I suppose my only regret would have been not gettin’ the chance to tell Ghost Eyes goodbye...</p>
<p>My plastic doll eyes began to glisten with the onset of tears again as Eleanor loomed over me victoriously, but I was ready to accept my fate.</p>
<p>That is until Eleanor unexpectedly howled, dropping me as she recoiled in what appeared to be a lot of agony.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Luckily I caught the brim of the cauldron as I plummeted. I held onto it for dear life, while glancing back to see just what the heck made my captor wail like that. I had the dreaded suspicion that it was—</p>
<p>Oh confound it all, it was!</p>
<p>The dang Northwest girl! What in the world had she come back for?!</p>
<p>She stood on the floor behind Eleanor, face scrunched in a defiant sneer with a fireplace poker held firmly in her arms. I could spot a hole in the back of Eleanor’s leg where she’d been skewered, and a thick, tar-like trail of black blood had begun to ooze out of it.</p>
<p>To our horror, Eleanor’s head spun around a whole 360 degrees to glare at the perpetrator.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“<strong>WHY YOU HORRIBLE LITTLE—!!</strong>”</p>
<p>The Northwest girl was so taken aback that she dropped the poker in alarm.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Oh for cryin’ out loud, I thought, RUN! But she was petrified on the spot, much like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Though with the way Eleanor’s eyes had also become completely black, I suppose I can hardly blame her for bein’ so shocked. This witch had gone from a friendly granny waiting patiently for bingo night to a mindless great white shark on legs!</p>
<p>I had pulled myself up onto the edge of the cauldron by now, my small weight being just enough to cause the thing to tilt a bit. The liquid inside was still bubbling too.</p>
<p>Knowing I didn’t have much time or much else choice, I started to hop up and down. The pot rocked back and forth, it’s contents swishing around dangerously until I managed to successfully dump it. Luckily I rolled underneath the thing once it finally toppled over.</p>
<p>What was once Eleanor had fully advanced on the Northwest girl by this point, the rest of her body having twisted around to join her head. She never saw the tidal wave of her own boilin’ hot brew coming.</p>
<p>The splash hit her at full force! She was completely drenched in slime, and it continued to sizzle and broil as she let forth bloodcurdling wail after bloodcurdling wail.</p>
<p>The Northwest girl watched in stunned silence as she writhed in agony. I myself couldn’t stop myself from watching the haunting sight either once I'd crawled out from behind the pot.</p>
<p>Saint’s alive.</p>
<p>At one point we stopped bein’ able to tell if it was the liquid or Eleanor’s very skin that was bubbling. Ghost Eyes better still have his notepad at the ready, cause I’m gonna need several more days of counseling.</p>
<p>Her screams echoed on as her body slowly began to disintegrate, till finally petering out into sad whimpers. Soon there was nothin’ left of her but a knitted scarf sitting in a black puddle.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>By gum, so witches really <em>do</em> melt. Guess Hollywood got that one right after all.</p>
<p>With the witch gone, I guess whatever enchantment was keeping her house around wore off. In an instant the whole place just went an’ poofed away! A very shaken up Northwest gal and I found ourselves suddenly lying on a patch of grass, thankfully back to our normal size at last!</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Hoo doggy, I almost did a jig when I saw I could bend my fingers again. And that awful plastic smell and silly ol’ bonnet were gone forever! Thank heaven above!</p>
<p>The Northwest girl was awash in relief too, happy to see that her arm was no longer stuck in a beauty pageant contestant’s frozen wave. She turned to me with an absolutely ecstatic smile on her once again human face and nearly doggone tackled me.</p>
<p>“We did it!!” she cried, throwin’ her hands around my shoulders. “We actually did it!”</p>
<p>I forgot myself for a moment, so overcome with relief that the two of us sat there laughin’ and cheerin’ for a good long while.</p>
<p>It wasn’t until we heard the sound of an approaching police siren that we came back to our senses. I pulled away rather roughly as the cop car drew near, my face flushed in mortified dread. Oh lord, what the heck would those cops think if they saw the town’s most hated demon summoner with some other kid in the middle of nowhere? With how much folks see me as a devil himself, I wouldn’t be surprised if they thought I was stealing her soul.</p>
<p>To our surprise we saw that runnin’ right alongside the car were the rest of the kids who’d been captured. They all looked mighty panicked, but stopped dead in their tracks upon seeing us. Various cries of “You’re alive?!” soon followed.</p>
<p>Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland emerged from their vehicle, and oh mercy, just seein’ that thing again brought back bad memories. I somehow managed to steel myself though, as the Northwest girl and I reluctantly stood up, havin’ no clue how we’d explain what the heck had happened.</p>
<p>Now here comes the biggest bombshell drop of the whole day. Ya’ll better be sittin’ down for this one.</p>
<p>Shocker of all shockers, <em>the sheriff didn’t believe a word I said</em>.</p>
<p>Of goldarn course. I’m lucky I had the rest of those kids around to back me up, else mine and the Northwest girl’s accounts would’a been dismissed as nothing but crazed ramblings. Which is honestly ridiculous. With everything this stupid town’s seen in the last few months alone, you’d think nothing would be outside the realm of possibility to these dimwits anymore.</p>
<p>Yet with Eleanor and her house gone, I suppose we really had no proof that our kidnappin’ witch story was true. The sheriff and his deputy gave me a scrutinizing glare before shrugging and concluding that us kids were merely pulling some prank, with me as their apparent ringleader.</p>
<p>“A bad influence,” they called me.</p>
<p>Hmph! Bad influence, indeed. Why, if it weren’t for me, those kids would all still be dollhouse accessories.</p>
<p>It was only after those unhelpful dopes had driven off that the rest of us noticed a tattered shoebox nearby. It seemed to be a diorama of some kind, like the sort of thing a kid would turn in with a book report, decorated with tiny cardboard furniture. It slowly dawned on us that it must have been the witch’s house. ...or perhaps what it had been all long when not transformed into a house.</p>
<p>Juuuuuuust to be on the safe side, we all took turns stomping on it until it was pulverized heap.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When everything was all said and done, alla’ us kids parted ways with the lot of ‘em giving me looks of reluctant thanks as they scurried off. <strike>Least I hope</strike>.</p>
<p>The Northwest girl was the only dawdler. She insisted on walkin’ me home, ‘cause get this. This entire doggone time it turns out she thought I was no older than five. Her jaw nearly hit the ground when I told her I was twice that age. Heck, I still don’t think she really believed me for sure.</p>
<p>This smooth, baby soft skin is both a blessin’ and a curse, I tell ya.</p>
<p>“So...” she began during our silent trudge home. “What happened the other day? When you just kind of... ran off?”</p>
<p>Shoot. I was dreadin’ that question. I turned my gaze to the dirt path, not quite knowin’ how to answer. After a minute or so of continued silence, she apparently realized she wasn’t gonna get an reply anytime soon, so she went with something else.</p>
<p>“...why did you let the witch catch you?”</p>
<p>Ohhh dang it.</p>
<p>I should have just answered the first one.</p>
<p>Even with how much I clammed up, she didn’t seem willing to drop it anytime soon. She kept her stern, but sympathetic face locked onto me, even as I began to sweat.</p>
<p>“I, uh...”</p>
<p>I wrung my chubby little hands.</p>
<p>“I didn’t do it on purpo—“</p>
<p>“Yes you did,” she immediately shot down my lie.</p>
<p>Hoo boy. I think it was around a full on five minutes of the longest, most painful amount of stuttering I’ve ever done in my life before I finally gave up and let my hands drop down at my sides in total defeat. And yet she still wouldn’t stop staring at me, her steel gaze demanding an answer.</p>
<p>There was no running away this time. I was willing to bet that she probably would have kept badgering me about it every time we crossed paths in town until I finally broke, so what other choice did I have?</p>
<p>I let out a weary sigh.</p>
<p>“Nowadays I... I don’t... really like myself very much.”</p>
<p>I couldn’t help but wince as the words left my mouth. I had never put it so darn bluntly before. Not even to Ghost Eyes.</p>
<p>The Northwest girl seemed horrified.</p>
<p>She quickly put a hand on my shoulder, lookin’ down at me the way a parent might look at their injured child. It made me feel so much worse, honestly.</p>
<p>“H-hey, listen, don’t—!” She took my chin in her hand and forced me to look at her. “D-don’t say that, ok?! It’s not— you shouldn’t—”</p>
<p>Poor gal really struggled. If I’d of known she’d get so upset, I woulda’ dodged the question longer.</p>
<p>After taking several shaky breaths, she tried starting anew, my chin still firmly in her grip. It seemed to me that there was a lot goin’ on with her internally. I could tell just from her deeply troubled expression and the way she bit her lip that she was having trouble finding the right words too.</p>
<p>“I don’t like myself either,” she finally said.</p>
<p>Her entire body sagged, and slowly she let go of my face. “We’re both... <em>really</em> terrible,” she stated with an air of deep grief. “Just the worst.”</p>
<p>Couldn’t argue with her there. When it came to <em>me</em>, at least.</p>
<p>“But,” a tiny bit of desperate hope crept into her voice. “We don’t <em>have</em> to be. Maybe we can change?”</p>
<p>The cynic in me knew it was probably far too late in my case. I couldn't help but retorting with, “Have you ever tried to destroy your enemies and summon a demon to do so? Twice?”</p>
<p>She winced. “Okay... no. But still.”</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Despite what I just said, it appeared she had already stubbornly set her resolve in stone. She wasn't gonna back down this time, so just as she’d done the other day, she held out her hand to me. “I could really use a friend,” she offered with a hopeful smile. “I think you could too.”</p>
<p>Her tone and expression were once again soft and sincere. She was really givin’ me one more chance, and a part of me wondered if she was givin’ herself one too.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>I hesitated again. I knew in my awful little heart that I didn’t deserve a friend. No amount of sacrificing myself, whether to an army of gnomes or a child sellin' witch, would ever deem me worthy.</p>
<p>Yet for some dang reason, I reached out and took her hand anyway.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Fellow Misfit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>October 16th</strong>
</p>
<p>The Northwest gi— er, I mean, <em>Pacifica</em> and I certainly are an odd pair.</p>
<p>We tried havin’ a sort of play date today, since that’s what normal kids do when they’re friends. ...right?</p>
<p><strike>An attempt was made at least</strike>.</p>
<p>We met each other at the park and just sorta... awkwardly hung out. Emphasis on the awkward part, as it didn’t take long for us to figure out that neither of us had any goldarn clue how to act like a regular ol’ kid. I guess we both must have assumed the other would be more knowledgeable on the subject and we could just follow the other’s lead.</p>
<p>Ha.</p>
<p>Right from the get go I could sense that actin’ “normal” wasn’t gonna come easy for us. For one thing she arrived in what had to be the longest, fanciest stretch limo I’d ever seen. And I grew up a child star.</p>
<p>It caused a lot of heads to turn our way. Which is the last thing the most hated kid in town needs, lemme tell ya. The gawks from the other park goers apparently made Pacifica nervous too, as she quickly shooed her driver away. Told him to go circle the neighborhood for a while.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>We exchanged a friendly greeting, then proceeded to stand there, blankly staring at the sidewalk for a bit until I weakly pointed at the swing-set behind us.</p>
<p>“Um... would you like to?”</p>
<p>“Y-yeah! Sure!”</p>
<p>Gathering up what little forced excitement we could, we made our way to the swings, sat down and then... continued to blankly stare down at the ground. Hoo boy. This would be a long afternoon.</p>
<p>“Cool. Awesome,” Pacifica mumbled, doin’ her best to sound enthused. “How do you..?” she began asking, looking down at her own legs with skepticism written all over her face.</p>
<p>I’m guessing that, like me, she must have heard that this swinging thing was supposedly fun. We just had to figure out <em>how</em>.</p>
<p>For cryin’ out loud, we didn’t even know how to work a dang swing. That’s really how doggone inept we were.</p>
<p>“I think,” I muttered as I kicked my stubby legs lightly. “...that ya gotta do this. Give yerself some momentum to get it goin.”</p>
<p>After a few seconds we were apparently doing it.</p>
<p>“Is this it?” she wondered aloud. I shrugged.</p>
<p>Ten minutes or so went by of us trying our dang hardest to have fun with that and failing. Soon Pacifica suggested hopscotch instead. I’d heard of it, but had never tried it before. I’d only ever seen kids on TV or in my class do it from afar during recess.</p>
<p>It seemed awful strange. You draw blocks on the ground with chalk and then hop on ‘em. With one foot.</p>
<p>Pacifica and I weren’t quite sure what the point was. It was so primitive. Do kids nowadays even still play these sort’a games?</p>
<p>We gave various other things a shot. The see-saw, the monkey bars, even the goofy smiling animals on springs that wobble back and forth and are popular with toddlers. We felt real silly on those in particular. I think those held the record over what we quit the fastest.</p>
<p>It wasn’t long till we dropped the whole charade of tryin’ to look normal and just got down to brass tacks, asking each other how much we honestly really knew about how regular kids act.</p>
<p>Turns out? Not a lot.</p>
<p>With her growing up a pampered rich socialite and me an ex-child star, we were borderline clueless.</p>
<p>We knew some broad stroke basics at the very least. Goin’ to parks or friends’ houses. Playin’ board games or watchin’ movies. But just what the heck <em>were</em> the games and movies that normal kids liked? Do kids even still play board games, or was it all video games now instead? And did kids watch cartoon movies, or did they prefer teen movies ‘cause we’re supposed to wanna feel like grown ups? ...I.. I don’t know.</p>
<p>Neither did Pacifica.</p>
<p>Some play date it ended up being. Stead’a “playing,” we spent the whole afternoon realizing we were complete social misfits.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>October 18th</strong>
</p>
<p>Despite our disastrous start, that Pacifica gal is still somehow dead set on tryin’ to make this whole friendship thing work. Those Northwests are adamant, I’ll give ‘em that. Or stubborn. Whichever way you’d prefer to look at it.</p>
<p>We met again at the park, wherein I asked her how she had managed to previously have friends in the first place. Surely she already knew the secret to at least <em>some</em> level of normalcy, as she had successfully once pulled it off before.</p>
<p>Except it turns out those other two gals she used to hang out with were more akin to yes men than pals. They only ever followed her every order ‘cause she was rich and influential, but now that her family’s wealth and reputation had tanked, they’d taken off.</p>
<p>Wasn’t too far off from my own situation, I suppose. I too had always surrounded myself with yes men, whether they were bodyguards or henchmen. I even made obedient servants outta my own parents.</p>
<p>
  <strike>Ugh. There goes that whole “nagging guilt eating away at my stomach” thing again.</strike>
</p>
<p>So yeah, we both stunk at this. Seems we had no choice but to start from the bottom, learning what we could, little by little.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>October 21st</strong>
</p>
<p>For the first time in my life I got invited to another kid’s house. Not to perform at a birthday party or wedding or what have you. To legitimately just... be a guest and not an act.</p>
<p>It was certainly strange, I’ll tell ya that. I’d never been to someone’s house without them expecting either entertainment or money from me. It left me feeling honest to goodness anxious for some reason. I had no idea what to do with myself outside of fiddling with my fingers like some sad, flounderin’ wallflower at a school dance.</p>
<p>Lord, I must’a looked like such a halfwit. It’s embarrassin’ really. Just how did I go from confident Southern gent to awkward oaf so fast? And in the Northwest household of all places!</p>
<p>Sure, they no longer resided in that ridiculously enormous mansion they’d once owned, but even their new “smaller” abode was still quite lavish. It was <em>twice</em> the size of my own house. Something Pacifica lamented about, by the way, citing that it was real difficult for her to get used to living in “such a tiny hobble.”</p>
<p>Y’know. Sad thing is, I don’t think she meant it as an insult. The gal’s so darn used to luxury, that even upper middle class is a huge downgrade for her.</p>
<p>Thankfully her folks weren’t around. Just the thought of bein’ in front of Preston Northwest’s judgmental eye made me feel a might queasy. The butler gave me a bit of an unimpressed side eye though. Mercy me, the shame.</p>
<p>Once in Pacifica’s still pretty darn fancy lookin’ bedroom (with lace covered canopy bed and boutique style walk in closet), she declared that <em>this</em> time she’d gone and done research beforehand. We wouldn’t be completely lost and painfully pathetic at behaving like normal kids this time around.</p>
<p>Her words, not mine.</p>
<p>She meticulously laid out everything we would supposedly need. Sleeping bags, make up and hair supplies. A curling iron even! Along with a handful of movies and sealed bags of microwave popcorn. While yanking me by the arm and sitting me down beside her on the plush carpet, she explained that these sleepover things involved three main activities. Makeovers, watching whatever movies were currently popular (which must also star attractive leads), and scarfing down as many calories as we possibly can.</p>
<p>Well, I was at least already a pro at the calorie intake part.</p>
<p>Wasn’t too on board with the movie thing though, but if Pacifica was this determined to give it the ol’ gung go try, then heck. I might as well.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>As for the makeovers? Honey, it turns out that’s the one thing we were both spectacular at. Looking good 24-7 had been a main priority for both of us growin’ up, so we had it on lock. Heck, the time we spent primping and dolling each another up wound up bein’ the bulk of the sleepover.</p>
<p>I manicured her nails. She styled my hair.</p>
<p>She powdered my face. I did her lipstick and lashes.</p>
<p>At one point I even mixed up a homemade seaweed mask for her. After sitting through a couple movies we peeled it off and <em>hoo lordy</em>, her skin came out so smooth! She was simply ecstatic about it too.</p>
<p>As she admired her silky, blemish free face in a hand mirror, she asked if that was my secret to baby soft skin. I nodded proudly. Confidentially, I actually used to depend on store bought lotion, but bein’ as it’s dang near impossible to nick it off Wendy these days without gettin’ my fingers broken, I’ve had to learn how to improvise.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>This sleepover thing ended up bein’ much more successful than our previous attempts at get togethers. Sure, the bar was pretty darn low. Practically touching the ground. But dang it, we’ll take whatever small victory we can.</p>
<p>The makeovers went on for two or three hours, and while they were a huge stress reliever, we found that our conversations on beauty products and techniques slowly drifted into ones that were... oddly introspective as the night went on.</p>
<p>“Do you think people are born good or bad?”</p>
<p>“If someone’s born bad, how can they fix themselves?”</p>
<p>“Can a person change for the better at any point? Or is there a limit of bad you can do until it’s too late?”</p>
<p>These sort of questions flew around wily nily the whole rest of the night, with neither of us having an answer to any of them. Soon the movies playing on her cartoonishly large television screen became white noise as we lay there on the carpet, looking fabulous yes, but feeling a deep existential dread deep down in our cores.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>I suppose it was a teensy bit comforting to find out I wasn’t the only kid in town havin’ these sorts of thoughts. But still. We were both pretty awful people. What if it’s too little, too late to turn things around? What’ll end up happening to us? Is a lifetime of regret all that’s waitin’ for us in the future?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Poor Folk Lessons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>October 23rd</strong>
</p>
<p>Shoot, I think Pacifica and I might be gettin’ more of a handle on this normal kid thing.</p>
<p>She knows a little more about these silly ol’ playground antics than I do, and recently she’s been teachin' me some jump rope rhymes. Goodness me, they are as cute as they are oddly morbid.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p><em>“Cinderella dressed in yella, went </em> <em>upstairs to kiss a fella</em></p>
<p><em>By mistake she kissed a snake, how many </em> <em>doctors did it take?”</em></p>
<p>We got up to 36 doctors. A new record for us!</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>October 25th</strong>
</p>
<p>While Pacy’s been teachin’ me about typical schoolyard things, I’ve found myself in the rather odd position of teachin’ her about “poor people stuff,” as Pacy so eloquently puts it. When she first dropped by my house for a visit she, no joke, spent the whole day bein’ bewildered by cleaning supplies of all things.</p>
<p>If ya’ll can believe it, I spent the day walking her through the steps of doin’ laundry, both washing and drying. She hung on my every word, actually takin’ honest to goodness notes the entire time with a glittery pink gel pen and notepad. She was especially shocked that there was an entire machine simply for drying. Heavens to Betsy, I knew she was sheltered, but wow.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>She declared that she’s dropping by again tomorrow so I can teach her how a mop works. Lord almighty, I ain’t sure what I’ve gotten myself signed up for.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>October 26th</strong>
</p>
<p>My goodness, ya’ll. It’s a darn good thing we got house insurance, ‘cause I think Pacy might just burn the place down with her “poor folks” lessons. That is the absolute last time I’m ever gonna try teachin’ her how to iron clothes.</p>
<p>It’s so darn tough to say no to the gal though. She is frighteningly persuasive. She’s got the makings of a future cutthroat lawyer, I’ll tell you what.</p>
<p>To my horror, as I was stomping out the flaming remains of what used to be one of my daddy’s favorite Hawaiian shirts, she gleefully announced that she’s ready for me to teach her how to cook next. Right then and there I think I felt a few years drop off of my lifespan.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>October 30th</strong>
</p>
<p>Ok ya’ll, now get this. Pacifica told me that she has never once in her life gone trick-or-treatin’ before. Never once! Her folks don’t “allow her accept handouts,” she says. I had to explain to her that Halloween candy is a big, BIG exception.</p>
<p>Now I wasn’t really plannin’ on trick-or-treatin’ myself this year. What with bein’ the most despised person in town. I doubt any kindly old folks will be willing to fill my bag with treats this year, no matter how blisteringly cute my costume may be. Heck, I think the only thing I can expect to receive is an a dozen eggs gettin’ thrown in my face.</p>
<p>But dang it, the thought of Pacy missing out just breaks my lil’ ol heart. She’s goin’ into her teen years too. This might be her last year to ever get to experience it.</p>
<p>All right, I’ve decided then. I’m gonna risk goin’ out this year just so Pacifica can have her very first proper Halloween. I’ll have to go incognito. Probably tear down my curtains and go the old fashioned white sheet ghost route, eye holes and all.</p>
<p>I tell ya, it’s a bit of a cryin’ shame that I won’t be able to go all out with my costume like I have previous years. All decked out and adorable, insuring I’d get enough candy to last me till new years. Ah well. I can at the very least use my sewin’ skills to make Pacifica a fabulous costume instead.</p>
<p>I ran the idea by her and she was mighty excited about it.</p>
<p>Shoot, I just wish it wasn’t on such short notice. A tried and simple witch is what she decided on, so I had her stand on the ottoman in my living room today, modeling an old black frock while I took out mama’s sewing kit and spruced it up as best I could.</p>
<p>Honeysuckle darn it, what a time for our bedazzling gun to be busted.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>October 31st</strong>
</p>
<p>Whelp. The big night came and went.</p>
<p>I ain’t sure if it was a success or not. It was a rather... turbulent evening, let’s just put it that way.</p>
<p>It’s a good thing I thought ahead and had Ghost Eyes and a few of the fellas follow behind us, a good distance away on their bikes just in case things turned ugly. ...which they did. But I’m gettin’ ahead of myself.</p>
<p>Pacy’s witch costume was far from perfect. It was pretty darn plain, given how I didn’t have time to neither bedazzle it or add glitter, but she thanked me just the same. Probably out of politeness. Still, even if the costume was a dud, I was determined to make the actual experience fun for her.</p>
<p>Over the years I’d put together a map of all the places that didn’t give out that cheap old ‘no brand’ candy. Y’know, the slop that fills wastebaskets every year. Ugh. No thank you.</p>
<p>Nah, instead we hit all the houses that gave out full size candy bars each year! Yessir, those are always the best. The ones that ain’t stingy with the treats and are happy to empty out their entire bowls if your dimpled face is smiling wide enough. Though given how I was completely covered, I wasn’t able to milk the cuteness with a lil’ song and dance like I usually do.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>But on the other hand, not a soul recognized me under my ghost sheet, so we didn’t get a single door slammed in our faces. I just had to make sure I masked my accent every time we blurted out “Trick-or-treat!”</p>
<p>“Oh wow,” Pacy said with a smile, admiring the bucket of sweets she’d gathered. “I am so <em>totally</em> gonna break out after eating all this!”</p>
<p>I chuckled from under my ghost sheet. “That’s fine. Y’gotta treat yerself every now and then, hon.”</p>
<p>Here’s hoping she did just that. With how darn rigid her home life seems to be, I think the gal’s more than earned herself a chocolate break here and there.</p>
<p>We were at it for hours straight. It was tiring, but dang it, if Pacy’s excitement wasn’t darn contagious. With her, it almost felt like I was experiencing Halloween again for the very first time myself. Going door to door with a friend felt oddly different. I wasn’t just usin’ this silly old tradition to coldly manipulate folks into given me free treats. I was havin’ honest to goodness fun.</p>
<p>As the night started dwindling, we finally had ourselves a rest, stepping aside somewhere we hoped would be hidden from sight.</p>
<p>I made the fool mistake of takin’ off my sheet in order to have myself a bite of chocolate. Curse this dang sweet tooth of mine. I just couldn’t wait till I got home, could I?</p>
<p>Soon as my pale face was out in the open, I felt the first egg slam and crack against my cheek. Another hit me square in the forehead. Soon a full-blown pelting followed, and I could only flinch back and cover my head in pathetic retaliation.</p>
<p>I heard Pacifica gasp. Thankfully the attack was aimed solely at me. As an aside, I gotta say, I really don’t recommend bein’ egged at all. The experience truly is as unpleasant as it sounds. Hurts like the dickens too! And that ain’t even goin’ into the mess.</p>
<p>Once it stopped, I cautiously peeked out from behind my fat little fingers. The culprits loomed before us, all hanging out of the windows of a black van with their arms still full of cartons, ready to start pelting anew.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>The gaggle of teens looked mighty pleased with themselves, a sadistic glee written across all their faces. All except for the redhead at the forefront.</p>
<p>I tell ya, if looks could kill, Wendy’s icy stare would’a struck me down dead on the spot.</p>
<p>What stung even worse was knowing full well that it wasn't un-deserved in the least. That oh so familiar hat she had sittin' atop of her head was a painful enough reminder. Painful like gettin’ hit by a truck.</p>
<p>“I had a feeling that was you under there, Gleeful.” I heard her angrily mutter.</p>
<p>This inspired a slew of snickers from her friends. They raised their arms, ready to pelt me again at her command, and I had no dang right to beg for any mercy.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Instead I just slumped my shoulders and readied myself for the next on slot of eggs. The sooner I got it over with the better, I thought.</p>
<p>Judging by Wendy’s face, I think she was disappointed by my lackluster reaction. I guess she’d been hoping I’d be more upset. Raise a big stink and throw a tantrum, cursing her name. ‘Stead I just stood there, resigned.</p>
<p>Didn’t stop her friends from tossin’ another wave though. That big nosed fella in the black hood managed to hit the one spot on my face that wasn’t already dripping with runny yolk.</p>
<p>They had themselves a big laugh till Wendy, much to my honest to goodness shock, told ‘em to pack it in. Mumbled something about missing some other girl’s party, so they retreated back into their van and took off. But not before Wendy shot one last glare at me.</p>
<p>Soon as the dust cleared, I saw another blur go by, just barely making out the sight of a furious, vengeful Ghost Eyes leading the rest of my old prison gang on their motorbikes right after the teens.</p>
<p>Hoo boy. Hope that didn’t end with any of them gettin’ sent straight to the ER, courtesy of Wendy’s left hook.</p>
<p>Pacifica looked absolutely mortified on my behalf. I could feel my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment underneath all the yolk, so I fell back onto my old tried and true habit of plastering on a forced fake smile.</p>
<p>While she fretted, frantically wiping my face with my ghost sheet, I assured her I was just fine. Right as rain. Dandy as candy. ...I’d say nothing was damaged except for my pride, but ya can’t break what’s already long gone, now can ya?</p>
<p>Once I finally convinced her that I would be ok, she had her limo show up to take her home. Not before dropping me off at my house first though, all while thanking me for taking her out trick-or-treating in the first place.</p>
<p>“Asking for handouts was actually pretty fun," she said with a bright smile. "Plus, it’s another kid thing I can cross off of my bucket list.”</p>
<p>It's the darnest thing. Seein' her be so doggone happy about such a little thing made me feel kinda warm inside. Maybe the humiliation was worth it, so long as Pacy enjoyed herself.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Troubled Sleep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>November 3rd</strong>
</p>
<p>Whelp.</p>
<p>On the one hand, Pacy’s cooking lessons are makin’ me start to miss being imprisoned and forced to dance for all eternity. But on the other hand... at least our smoke detectors are workin’ fine.</p>
<p>One thing I gotta hand to Pacy is her goldarn determination. No matter how many times she burns cookies, eggs and even <em>juice</em> somehow, she always hops right back onto the metaphorical horse, so to speak. If that horse was my smoke filled kitchen.</p>
<p>I ain’t got a clue why she’s so gung ho about learnin’ to do all this menial labor though. It’s not like a gal as rich as her is ever gonna need to scrub stains out of her own clothes when she’s got a slew of butlers to do it for her. Maybe she just wants to prove to herself that she can.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>November 5th</strong>
</p>
<p>I made the mistake of venturing out to the grocery store today. Mother was in need of a few things, so I volunteered to make the trip for her. I must have caught her off guard, given how she jumped a few feet into the air when I offered.</p>
<p>It was on my way back that somebody managed to clock me real good with a rock right clean to my head.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Heavens to Betsy, it hurt like you wouldn’t believe. Knocked me right off my darn feet. How <em>mortifying</em>. I groggily pulled myself back up, the sidewalk spinnin’ before my eyes. If anybody laughed, I couldn’t hear ‘em on account of all the ringing in my ears.</p>
<p>When I put my hand to my head I was horrified to find it felt wet.</p>
<p>A thin trickle of blood was makin’ it’s way down my forehead. I swallowed down my panic though, not wanting to make myself look even more the fool than I already did. Instead I staggered home, placed mother’s groceries on the counter and high tailed it to the bathroom.</p>
<p>Luckily it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. I patched myself up just fine. Only problem is now I got this giant unsightly bandage takin' up half my forehead. It’s probably gonna worry Pacifica.</p>
<p>And Ghost Eyes? Hoo boy.</p>
<p>Knowin’ him, he’s gonna take it upon himself to hunt down and murder whoever done it. <strike>And part of me wants to let him do it</strike>. No, no. Revenge ain’t gonna solve nothing. Least that’s what they used to keep trying to hammer into my head back in prison.</p>
<p>Ugh, speaking of prison, I can’t risk Ghost Eyes gettin’ sent back there. Not when he’s finally starting to put his life back on track. I need to keep this little injury under wraps, and for good. I’d better scrounge around my closet for something to cover it up with.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>November 8th</strong>
</p>
<p>Pacifica came barrelin’ over to my place all excited today. She couldn’t sit still. You’d think someone had struck a match and set her foot on fire. I thought for sure it was ‘cause she’d gotten some spectacular news. Like that her daddy somehow managed to make his fortune back. But no. Get this.</p>
<p>The reason Pacy was giddier than a fox in a sea of hens was ‘cause she got herself a part time job as a waitress at Greasy’s Diner.</p>
<p>Yes. <em>That</em> Greasy’s Diner.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>She eagerly spun around my room to show off her new uniform, apron and all. Why anybody would be happy about gettin’ a job in food service, I’ll never understand. Trust me, I know how much of a nightmare servin’ people can be. I was once the kind of insufferable customer waiters tell horror stories about to each other in hushed tones.</p>
<p>I tried to warn her as delicately as I could. The thought of her bein’ yelled at and embarrassed by some sleazy big shot just for gettin’ his order wrong made my stomach turn. But Pacy shrugged it off. Told me she’d be fine. Heck, seems that the whole reason she wants this job is ‘cause she thinks she’s got the grit to handle it.</p>
<p>Well shoot, good on her, I guess.</p>
<p>I just hope Greasy’s has got a fire extinguisher.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>November 10th</strong>
</p>
<p>From what I hear, Greasy’s Diner is still standing. I guess Pacy must be doin’ alright after all. I got no way of knowin’ since I’m not allowed on the premises anymore. I ain’t allowed in most places ‘round town, actually. Got no choice but to root Pacy on in spirit.</p>
<p>Though I tell ya, it’s gettin’ a little tougher to put on the ol’ fake cheery facade whenever she drops by. For one thing, those pesky nightmares have started up again. Just when I thought I was finally rid of ‘em.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Ol’ Cipher keeps rising back up from the grave to taunt me in my dreams. I haven’t had myself a good night’s sleep in days. The sleep deprivation’s real evident on my face too. These saggin’ bags under my eyes and my ghastly complexion are one horrid sight. I’m barely the baby faced lookin’ little darling that I used to be.</p>
<p>Pacifica eyeballed me something awful when she dropped by earlier.</p>
<p>“Are you ok?” she’d asked as soon as she caught sight of me at the door. “You look kinda... not great.”</p>
<p>Tactful as always.</p>
<p>I waved off her concerns with a weak flick of my tiny wrist. It’s not like I can really tell her about my troubles anyway. The gal’s been making huge strides in bettering herself. Last thing she needs is to be burdened with my bothersome issues.</p>
<p>‘Sides, it’s not like she’d be able to help anyway. I doubt even the best, most renowned therapist in all the world could even <em>begin</em> tryin’ to put together a case as messed up as I am.</p>
<p>What Pacifica did do, however, was take it upon herself to freshen up my face with some of her expensive, fancy foundation. Hopefully it helped and I look a little less like the walkin’ dead.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>November 14th</strong>
</p>
<p>The visions I see of Bill keep whispering things to me every night.</p>
<p>Nasty things that make my mind wander to some real dark places.</p>
<p>“Y’know you’re doomed, right kid?” his chipper voice says as he appears above my bed in a puff of smoke. “You can talk to all the shrinks in the world and take every med there is, but nothing’s ever gonna fix ya. You’re a psychopath.”</p>
<p>“Leave me alone!” I shout, swatting at the triangle with my pillow.</p>
<p>“You’ve driven people away since you were in pampers. And you’re gonna <em>keep</em> driving people away until you die a fat, ulcer ridden old man.”</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“SHUT YOUR FACELESS GOB!!”</p>
<p>Even without a mouth, I could still somehow imagine the twisted smirk on his yellow face.</p>
<p>“Then the only thing the world’s gonna do is pretend to be a little sad for a few seconds, remembering what a cute child star you used to be, then move on. Most of them will secretly think, ha! Good riddance!”</p>
<p>Even as I cover my ears to drown him out, the blasted triangle goes on.</p>
<p>“Between you and me, kid... I think your best bet is to just off yourself. Make one last big curtain call, like throwing yourself off your old merch factory. Maybe even do a flip! That’d be hilarious!”</p>
<p>No. No, I shouldn’t listen.</p>
<p>It’s still not too late for me, is it? I still have time to turn things around, just like Ghost Eyes said. There’s still hope for even me, isn’t there...?</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Dang it, that awful demon’s supposed to be dead! Why won’t he leave me the heck alone already!?</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>November 19th</strong>
</p>
<p>Saints alive, I look worse than ever. Like a pasty lump of old cheese that’s been left out in the sun too long. I can’t stand the sight of myself in the mirror these days. Even my poor hair has suffered. I barely have the energy to preen, so it’s startin’ to deflate.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Thank goodness the weather’s grown colder so I have an excuse to constantly have my head buried inside this old wool hoodie I found from back when I was seven or so. Still fits somehow. Have I really not grown an inch since then?</p>
<p>Regardless, with the giant bandage, exhausted face and listless, drooping hair, you’d think I’d just gotten back from a month long hospital stay. I certainly <em>feel</em> that way, at least.</p>
<p>Get it together, Gideon. You gotta break yourself out of this miserable rut.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>If Pacifica can turn it around, so can you. She’s out there carving out a new life for herself. Makin’ new friends both at the diner and even at school. In the short amount a’ time you’ve been helpin’ her, she’s practically become a whole new person. So quit feelin’ sorry for yourself.</p>
<p>Then again, I reckon it’s barely fair to compare myself to her. From what I hear, the worst she ever did was be a catty, schoolyard bully. Whereas <em>me</em> on the other hand... <strike>maybe Bill is right</strike>.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>November 21st</strong>
</p>
<p>Thanksgiving is coming up. I gotta help mother with the cooking, despite how tired I am.</p>
<p>I try to take little naps here and there. Try to cover up my all my new wrinkles with the foundation Pacy left for me the other day. Hopefully it’s makin’ me look a little less dreadful upon a second glance.</p>
<p>What I wouldn’t give to never have to hear that stupid triangle again. That nasty laugh of his makes my blood run cold. But despite all the soothing whale noises and rain forest sounds I play to get to sleep at night, he still eventually shows up in my dreams like clockwork.</p>
<p>The scariest thing about it all is that I think he might be startin’ to get to me.</p>
<p>I mean. It’s not like he’s <em>wrong</em>.</p>
<p>Dang it. I shouldn’t oughta think this way. Not when I promised Ghost Eyes that I’d stick it out.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Quit comparin’ yourself to Pacy, you mopey twit. Quit lookin’ at all the progress she’s made, then lookin’ back at your own. It’s just gonna make you feel more doggone discouraged.</p>
<p>I just... I just need to lie down.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Self Hatred</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>November 25th</strong>
</p>
<p>Cheese and crackers, Thanksgiving was an absolute disaster! I had really been looking forward to it too. Just me, my folks, and all of my darlin’ henchmen.</p>
<p>Imagine us all. Crowded around the table an’ sharing prison stories. Gobbling up the scrumptious dumplings, canned yams and pumpkin pie I’d whipped up. One incredibly full but joyous house. Like somethin’ out of a Norman Rockwell painting.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>But surprise, it wasn’t.</p>
<p>I don’t know why in the high heaven I thought things would go smoothly. They <em>never</em> do.</p>
<p>Poor mama and daddy were scared outta their wits the entire dinner. They were sweatin’ like sinners in church. I should’a known the fellas would be a little much for them. Even after I’d ordered them all to be on their best behavior, they were still too boisterous and loud for my folks.</p>
<p>On top of that, not halfway into dinner and I passed out from all this lack of sleep. Just conked right out, face first into my plate. If I had any shred of dignity left, that definitely shot the last of it dead.</p>
<p>By the time I woke up, Thanksgiving was over. All the fellas had long left.</p>
<p>I can’t imagine what they all must think of me. Their proud mighty leader, passed out in a bowl of potato salad. Before seven pm, even! I wouldn’t be surprised if they were choosing a new leader right now as I write this. To heck with this whole awful month.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>November 28th</strong>
</p>
<p>Go away, Cipher. Just go away.</p>
<p>Every night I pace back and forth in my room like some kind of tiny madman. Sometimes I’m still goin’ even as the sun is rising. This is it. I think I’ve finally gone plum crazy.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>I’ve pulled out so much of my poor hair. I snap out of my paranoid stupors to find long white trails of it behind me after hours of pacing.</p>
<p>But I can’t go to sleep. <strong>He’ll</strong> be waitin’ for me when I do. Ready to put me back in that accursed sailor suit and tap shoes. Or to tell me I oughta throw myself out of my window. ...showin’ me visions of the Pines family, <em>my</em> family, and the entire doggone town cheerin’ for my tubby little body to plummet and splatter.</p>
<p>Arghhh!! I just pulled out another chunk of hair!</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>November 30th</strong>
</p>
<p>I reached a new low today: Group Therapy.</p>
<p>Sure, I ain’t no stranger to it. Back in prison we did a lot of it. Only difference is back then I was surrounded by grown adults rather than kids my own age (seriously, I am still flabbergasted that sending a nine year old to <em>adult</em> prison is considered normal ‘round here).</p>
<p>But familiar territory or not, it still felt embarrassing. Havin’ a whole circle of other kids stare at you, with all of us knowin’ darn well that we’re clearly here because there’s something fundamentally wrong with us in the head. The adults won’t come out and say it of course, but alla’ us know.</p>
<p>Daddy’s the one who went and signed me up for the whole charade. The man’s as dense as he’s ever been, but even <em>he</em> can tell just by lookin’ at me nowadays that I ain’t been well. His heart was in the right place at least.</p>
<p>Unfortunately it seems even therapy can’t help me now. Soon as I introduced myself to the group, everyone turned on me. Including the therapist.</p>
<p>He and alla’ the kids started chuckin’ their nametags at my head. Shoot, those things got some surprisingly pointed edges too! They were just a hair away from feelin’ like ninja stars.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>There was only one other kid there who didn’t hate my guts immediately. A fella named Gavin or Gabe, I think it was. Seemed nice. <strike>Rather handsome too, I hate to admit</strike>. Would’a thought he was pretty normal had it not been for the sock puppets on his hands. ...yes, you heard that right.</p>
<p>He gave me the oddest compliment when he introduced himself. Well, “compliment” might not be the right term.</p>
<p>“You’re just as cute as you are on TV,” he’d cooed. “Like a little living puppet!”</p>
<p><em>Eerrgh.</em> Just hearin’ that word brings out a fight or flight response outta me thanks to Bill. Maybe it wound up bein’ for the best that I was booed outta there. Though unlike the rest’a the kids, instead of throwin’ his nametag, Gabe tossed me his number.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>If he restrains from ever, <em>ever</em> callin’ me a puppet again, I might consider it.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>December 1st</strong>
</p>
<p>I’m awful. I’m horrible.</p>
<p>I’m ugly both inside and out.</p>
<p>Just lookin’ at myself makes me feel vile.</p>
<p>I threw a book into my mirror, shatterin’ it to tiny pieces, just so I wouldn’t catch no more glimpses of myself as I pace back and forth in my room. I knew I’d regret the mess later, but seein’ my face crumble away brought me a sick sense of satisfaction.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Then I turned my gaze to the portrait that ominously hung over my bed. My old self, with my tall hair, tailored suit and smug, slimy air that loomed over me every waking moment of the day. It had been drivin’ me just as crazy as Bill’s unwelcome visits have. Why in the flying heck did I still even have it up?! I should have taken it down ages ago when I threw out my popsicle stick mystery shack.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>A horrible feeling of dread filled my stomach as I stared into my own face.</p>
<p>Somethin’ in me snapped right then and there. Without warning I leapt onto my bed like some wild, ravenous animal, and ripped it down from the wall. Then I dug into the drawer of my desk until I found myself a pair of scissors.</p>
<p>Not the rounded down safety scissors I use for arts and crafts at school either.</p>
<p>The <em>good</em> ones!</p>
<p>Once I had ‘em in hand, I threw myself onto that canvas and slashed at my face. It was an expensive portrait. One I had commissioned a year or so back, specifically to capture the “elegant grace” I had convinced myself I had back then in my delusional little power mad mind. I’d been so proud of it at the time.</p>
<p>Right now however... it was by far the ugliest goldarn picture this side of the Mississippi river. <em>Any</em> river, really. It was an absolute eyesore, and a horrible reminder of what a miserable, soulless waste I was.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>I slashed and I tore and I screeched bloody murder ‘til every part of that portrait had been destroyed. It felt so sickeningly good too. Slashing my fat face to tiny, unrecognizable bits. If my vision hadn’t been so blurry from a wave of inexplicable tears, I really would have relished the sight.</p>
<p>But I didn’t stop there, oh no.</p>
<p>With shaky hands, I staggered over to my wardrobe, flinging the doors wide open to reveal all of my old baby blue suits neatly lined up in several rows. I hadn’t worn any of them in months, so they were still in pristine, freshly ironed condition.</p>
<p>The sight of them made the disgust in my gut magnify even more (if that was even possible). Never in my life have I ever hated pieces of clothing so much. In my delirious rage, I tore them all off their hangers and threw them unceremoniously to the floor. Then, brandishing my scissors again, I cut and slashed ‘em all to bits! I stabbed and tore blindly, lost in a sea of blind, violent fury. At one point I dropped the scissors completely and simply tore the suits in half with my own bare hands.</p>
<p>I heard myself screamin’ the entire time. I screamed till my throat was hoarse. Probably woke all the neighbors. They must have thought some sort of unholy demon had broken into our home, causing all manner of wanton destruction.</p>
<p>Lookin’ back on it, that’s not too far off from bein’ accurate. Sweet apple cider, it scares me just how crazed I got. Even the worst of my child-star era tantrums never got <em>that</em> out of control. It almost feels like it was just another nightmare.</p>
<p>During my fit, I spotted my parents standin’ at my door watching, their faces pale and shadowed forms shivering in silent, confused horror. I guess they knew better than to venture inside my room to stop me.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Mercy, the looks on their faces. I don’t think I’ll ever forget ‘em.</p>
<p>I let forth one last ungodly scream and then... shoot. I can’t really recall what happened after that. I must have blacked out completely. I can only hope I didn’t wreck anything else.</p>
<p>It was mid-afternoon when I finally woke up again.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>The suits and the portrait were gone. Even the shards of glass from my broken mirror had been swept up. Somehow I was back in my bed, tucked in with my old teddy bear resting beside me. I wondered if I had done that myself, or if mama and daddy had?</p>
<p>I can’t imagine they would. After that disturbing episode, I wouldn’t blame ‘em if they never came near me again.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>December 4th</strong>
</p>
<p>I miss Pacifica somethin’ awful. I’ve had to fib and tell her I’m sick whenever she calls to ask how I’ve been. Goodness knows I can’t let her see the sorry state I’m in. With all the hair I’ve pulled out, I must look a sight.</p>
<p>She’s been doin’ just swell on her own anyway. She’s been postin’ a whole lotta pictures of herself on her social media these days with all the new friends she’s made recently. She’s gotten right back on the horse when it comes to bein’ popular. Good on her.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>It’s probably for the best she ain’t seen with me anymore. It’ll be social suicide for her. ‘Sides, she deserves better friends anyways.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>December 8th</strong>
</p>
<p>Daddy’s hired another therapist. Only this time it was one on one.</p>
<p>This kindly lookin’ old woman with a pointed pair of granny glasses and a cozy knitted sweater visited the house. Dr. Roses, she called herself. She made me some tea and sat down with me in the living room to chat.</p>
<p>Well, “chat” bein’ a nice way of sayin’ “find out what’s wrong with this kid.”</p>
<p>She seemed nice enough though. Shame she’s got her work cut out for her. I decided it was best to be as upfront as possible with everything I’ve done. Just tell her the whole kit and caboodle right away so she can back out of this job as early as she can. Yet to my shock she stuck around. Didn’t seem disgusted or horrified at all, even when I told her about the demon summoning. Both times.</p>
<p>Usually by then even the most composed of doctors is throwin’ holy water at me.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Dr. Roses remained friendly though, even offerin’ to brew me some more tea. She must be real good at fakin’ kindness like I used to be.</p>
<p>She asked me the usual stuff most shrinks have asked. When did I first start misbehavin’ and havin’ ambitions of global domination, that sorta stuff.</p>
<p>First grade, I’d answered. Back when I first found that dusty old book and the amulet. Her eyes lit up behind her glasses at the mention of the amulet, and she asked me somethin’ mighty peculiar.</p>
<p>“Is your hair naturally white, dear?”</p>
<p>I was caught a little off guard. What the heck’s my hair got to do with anything, I thought. “Yes ma’am. Far back as I can remember, at least.”</p>
<p>She looked at me pensively, tapping her long pink nails against the brim of her notepad. “Do you have any baby pictures I can look at?”</p>
<p>Huh. Odd request, but heck, she’s the doctor here. Must be for a good reason. I fetched her one of the many baby books my parents had of me from a nearby shelf and let her have at it. She skimmed it rather intensely, her eyes scrunched up and serious behind her thick glasses. I wondered just what the heck she was searchin’ for.</p>
<p>“Light blonde,” she suddenly mumbled.</p>
<p>“Pardon?” I asked uneasily, hands fidgeting in my lap.</p>
<p>“Your hair, dear. It was a very light blonde.”</p>
<p>I took a look for myself. A really hard look, and low and behold, it seems she was right. Here I’d always assumed it was naturally white. That perhaps I'd been born with a touch of albinism, which caused my skin tone and hair to be so darn pale.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>But when really comparin’ my current locks with the tiny tufft of hair on my baby self’s head, it was just the slightest bit ashy blonde. Almost indistinguishable from it’s current shade, but still there.</p>
<p>“That’s your natural hair color,” she mumbled again. However it seemed more like she was talkin’ to herself rather than to me.</p>
<p>I don’t know why she was suddenly so fixated on such a pointless detail of my appearance. So my hair (or at least what’s left of it) had apparently lightened in color over the years. So what? I don't know how that's supposed to affect my current failin’ sanity.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>December 11th</strong>
</p>
<p>Dr. Roses has kept returning for more house calls. She not only speaks with me, but has also on occasion even sat down with my parents.</p>
<p>She usually wants these sessions to be private. In other words, without lil’ ol me. She can probably tell how my very presence alone makes ‘em nervous. Thus with me outta the room, she knows she’ll likely get more honest answers outta mama and daddy.</p>
<p>I know I shouldn’t outghta, but I couldn’t help but eavesdrop. I’m ashamed of how doggone egotistical I still am. Seems I still need to know what people are sayin’ about me when I ain’t around, even if I know darn well and good that none of it’s gonna be positive.</p>
<p>This afternoon while the doc and my folks were down in the living room havin’ their chat, I quietly sat at the top of the stairs hidden from their line of sight.</p>
<p>“He’s a good boy deep down. Honest he is,” daddy was sayin’ while wiping the sweat from his brow. “He just gets a little bit ornery sometimes.”</p>
<p>I felt that oh so familiar pang of guilt at hearin’ daddy still making excuses for me.</p>
<p>Roses asked them the same questions she’d asked me. Even the one about the hair, which I still think is mighty strange. Daddy did most of the talking as he normally does, while mama sat to the side in silence, twiddling her thumbs nervously and giving the occasional longing glance over to her vacuum cleaner.</p>
<p>“Mrs. Gleeful?”</p>
<p>Poor mama startled at suddenly bein’ addressed.</p>
<p>“You’ve been terribly quiet. What are <em>your</em> thoughts on Gideon’s behavior?”</p>
<p>Mama’s hands trembled even more as her eyes darted around the room. Probably tryin’ to check if I was watching them or not. Which ok, yeah, I <em>was</em>, but still. It’s a real punch to the gut how much she still sees me as the dreaded around here.</p>
<p>“I-I.. um... h-he’s...” she croaked.</p>
<p>“It’s all right,” Roses reassured her in that typical calm therapist tone. “He’s not here right now. You don’t have to be afraid.”</p>
<p>I quietly sniffed back the tears forming in my eyes and kept listening. Focus, Gideon. You’ll have plenty of time to cry yourself to sleep about that later, I’d told myself.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Mama took a deep breath and attempted to start again. Her voice as small and shaky as ever.</p>
<p>“He... he didn’t used to be like this,” she said solemnly.</p>
<p>“When did his behavior change?”</p>
<p>Mama gripped her dress in her hands, not looking up. “He... one day h-he came home from school... c-came back different... he wasn’t my baby anymore...”</p>
<p>“Do you remember exactly <em>when</em>?” Roses pressed.</p>
<p>There was a beat of silence. And lemme tell ya, it felt like the <em>heaviest</em> dang silence of my life. Silence so thick, you could slice it and spread it on toast like butter. Which normally would be quite the delicious metaphor, were it not for the fact that it was killin’ me.</p>
<p>With more urging from the doctor, mama went into full detail about that fateful autumn day from so many years ago.</p>
<p>I still remember. It was my first week of first grade. A bunch of my classmates had been pickin’ on me ‘cause of my weight, and during recess I snuck off past the teacher. I went beyond the fence behind the school to hide in the nearby woods.</p>
<p>That’s where I’d found it. Journal #2, buried in the dirt.</p>
<p>Mama explained how I grew more and more obsessed with it. How I stopped doin’ things I used to love as a youngin. Playing games of pretend and doodling in coloring books went to the wayside. Learning dark magic and gettin’ back at anybody who’d ever wronged me took top priority. Shoot, even as a little kid I was petty and spiteful.</p>
<p>Then mama recalled the day I found the amulet.</p>
<p>She’d been bakin’ cookies that day. Buttercream and double chocolate chip. My favorites. She stepped into the living room with a plate full of 'em, hot and fresh right out the oven.</p>
<p>Only instead of finding her boy innocently playin' with his toys, she was met with the sight of me levitating in the air. An otherworldly blue glow enveloping me.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>I felt a rush of overwhelming power that day. It was all consuming. The most magnificent feeling I’d felt in my then young life. My mouth had curled up into a wicked little smile as mother let out a blood curdling scream, dropping the plate of cookies. But I didn’t hear her. Nor had I cared.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>At this point poor mama broke down into tears after recalling that memory. Nearly five years later and the trauma was still as deep as a canyon. I felt so ashamed. I slunk off to my room so I wouldn't hear mama cryin' no more.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>December 13th</strong>
</p>
<p>I woke up this morning feelin’ like something was truly, <em>truly</em> wrong. Even more so than usual.</p>
<p>For one thing, there was the rather distressing fact that I couldn’t move neither my arms nor my legs. That raised a few red flags, to put it mildly.</p>
<p>I jerked my head around in a panic, struggling against glowing phantom chains that had me tied down to my bed. The harder I yanked against them, the tighter they seemed to get.</p>
<p>Just as unsettling was that Dr. Roses was in my room. She stood looming above me without the usual pleasant, grandmotherly smile on her face. She looked rather intimidating, in fact. Her lips were curled downwards in a nasty grimace. Just who the heck spit in her tea, I thought.</p>
<p>Behind her I saw that my room was in absolute shambles. The drawers of my dressers, as well as my wardrobe, were flung open, their contents strewn about on the floor. It was as if someone had been frantically looking for something.</p>
<p>I stared up at Roses in bewilderment.</p>
<p>About a million or so questions filled my head. Just what the Sam Hill was goin’ on, for one. What had she done to my things? Why was she even here in the first place? Did we have a session scheduled for today that I had I just plum forgot about? Before I could ask any of these things however, she cut me off with a question of her own.</p>
<p>“Where is it?”</p>
<p>I blinked, completely at a loss. “Beg pardon?”</p>
<p>“Where. Is. My. Amulet.”</p>
<p>Amulet? As in... <em>that</em> amulet? She couldn’t possibly mean the same one. I sputtered in confusion, havin’ no darn clue what to even say to this.</p>
<p>She was not happy with this response, to put it lightly. She grabbed a handful of my hair and gave it sharp tug. I could only wiggle helplessly against the magic restraints, a tiny yelp of pain escapin’ my lips.</p>
<p>“My amulet, you little brat! Just look at this hair! I know you’ve been using it. Now tell me where it is!”</p>
<p>I yelped again, tryin’ in vain to pull away from her. “I don’t have it no more...! It got destroyed,” I managed to cry out as I felt her nails start digging into my scalp.</p>
<p>“You’re a liar,” she spat, releasing my hair. Her eyes narrowed as she darkly added, “You’re the one who killed Eleanor as well.”</p>
<p>The air in my lungs suddenly depleted. I swear, for a good few seconds I honest to goodness forgot how to breath. Never in my life did I think I would ever hear mention of Eleanor again.</p>
<p>A shudder ran down my spine as it hit me full force that I had heard Roses’ voice once before, but hadn’t recognized it until that very moment. <em>The other witch in the cauldron</em>. The one Eleanor had been talking to.</p>
<p>Oh flapjacks, wasn’t I the lucky one? Two nice old ladies that are secretly witches who kidnap kids, and I manage to run into <em>both</em> of ‘em.</p>
<p>Dr. Roses, or Claudia, or whatever the heck her real name was, dug around in her pocket. Her bony hands reemerged with a pair of black buttons and an absurdly long needle. She held said needle dangerously close to my eyes. Heaven help me, I could already take a grim guess as to what she was aimin’ to do.</p>
<p>“This is your last chance, boy,” she threatened with a venomous snarl. “Tell me where my amulet is or I’ll force it out of you. And unlike Eleanor, I have the sense to make my spells <strong>permanent</strong>.”</p>
<p>I gulped under her glare, flinching back as far away as I could from her needle. Which unfortunately, thanks to those darn restraints, was barely even an inch.</p>
<p>“All one needs to make a permanent, obedient toy—” she went on. “—is to take their eyes.”</p>
<p>Oh horse spit, I’d never been more unhappy to be right. My panic reached a boilin’ point and I started screaming.</p>
<p>“I DON’T HAVE IT NO MORE! I SWEAR!!”</p>
<p>The needle inched closer.</p>
<p>“IT GOT DESTROYED! REALLY, IT DID! P-PLEASE! STOP!!” Dang it, she wasn’t havin’ a word of it. I was ‘bout to lose both my eyes and free will, and there wasn’t nothin’ I could do to get out of it.</p>
<p>I continued to squirm and plead, when suddenly we both heard the door creak open. Roses and I turned our gazes to the hall, and my heart dropped to my stomach when I saw mother standing there in petrified shock.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>The jig was up for Roses, it seemed. I thought for sure she’d try to weasel her way out of the situation. Back away from me and try to come up with some phony explanation as to why I had been screamin’ and why she was holdin’ a sharp object near her young client’s face. But to my surprise, Roses didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.</p>
<p>She didn’t make any effort to back away from me. She kept me good and bound in place, merely regarding my mother’s presence with cold indifference.</p>
<p>“Just walk away,” she said calmly.</p>
<p>Mother and I both gaped at her rather moronically, not knowing if we had heard her right.</p>
<p>“Walk away,” she repeated, not taking her eyes off my mother’s shaking frame at the door. “You can finally be rid of him. This is your chance. Just. Walk. Away.”</p>
<p>Mother stayed frozen, her eyes wide and fearful.</p>
<p>The longest danged minute of my life passed. I knew full well that there was a very strong possibility that mother would choose to abandon me to my fate. And no one in the world would blame her.</p>
<p>Roses was right. This was her perfect opportunity to be rid of the awful little hell seed that’s been plaguing her life for ten years.</p>
<p>My chest tightened. The longer she hesitated, the worse the pain felt. Even though I had no right to, I looked at her pleadingly.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>I silently mouthed the world ‘please’ to her.</p>
<p>Please don’t leave me. Please don’t go, mama. <em>Please.</em></p>
<p>A trail of sweat was visible on her face. It seemed as though her survival instinct and maternal instinct were duking it out inside of her head. And after what felt like ages, she finally made her move.</p>
<p>She left.</p>
<p>As I said, I shouldn’t have been surprised. It was the only sane choice, really. What the heck could my poor mother even <em>do</em> to fight against the supernatural? And for what? To save some horrible brat who’s spent nearly his entire life psychologically torturing her?</p>
<p>She was right to leave.</p>
<p>I stared blankly at the now empty doorway where she had been standing. A stray tear rolled down my cheek.</p>
<p>Roses, goin’ right back to business, roughly grabbed my face and forcibly turned it back up to look at her. She had her needle steady in hand once more.</p>
<p>This time I made no attempt at struggling. What was the point? My own mother had given up on me. Let the witch take my eyes for all I cared. I lay there like a pitiful sack of potatoes, not even flinching at the needle anymore as it came toward me.</p>
<p>--when without warning, Roses was struck hard with something from behind. There was a loud ‘whack’ like the sound of a skull meeting the blunt end of a baseball bat. The witch let out a howl of pain before falling limp to the floor.</p>
<p>Just a few mere feet from where she’d been standing was mother, holding the long end of her vacuum cleaner in her trembling hands like a club. She gaped down at Roses’ form on the ground with large, disbelieving eyes, clearly unable to believe she’d even just done such a thing. And shoot, neither could I.</p>
<p>As soon as Roses’ body had hit the floor, the phantom chains holding me down vanished.</p>
<p>Mother and I exchanged a silent glance. I opened and closed my mouth, lookin’ like a stupid gosh darned fish, not knowin’ what the heck to say. She seemed to be at a complete loss too.</p>
<p>Which was just as well, as we didn’t have any time to talk. A groan from the floor swiftly reminded us that we weren’t anywhere near out of the woods yet.</p>
<p>Throwin’ her fear temporarily to the wayside, mother rushed to my side and scooped me up in her arms as if I were an infant again. Then, with me in tow, she bolted out of the room as fast as her thin legs could carry her.</p>
<p>From over her shoulder I caught a glimpse of Roses pulling herself up off the ground.</p>
<p>Oh mercy. She did not look happy.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Worthy of Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>December 13th (Continued)</strong>
</p>
<p>Mama scrambled down the hall with me in her arms.</p>
<p>I could hear her heart poundin’ loudly in her chest as she made a mad dash down the stairs. Behind us we could feel an ominous heat surging.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Light bulbs in the house grew brighter as Roses passed them to get to us. The overwhelming energy from her magic caused them to burst, and each miniature explosion made my poor mother let out a startled shriek. She squeezed onto me tighter as if I were a lifeline. She almost cut off my circulation completely, but to heck with it, I didn’t care. I wanted to escape the wrath of the witch as much as she did.</p>
<p>Mother tried goin’ out the front door, but as soon as she reached the handle the same phantom chains that had been holdin’ me down in my bed appeared in a ghostly purple flash.</p>
<p>We could hear the creaking of Roses’ footsteps coming down the staircase now. With a gasp, mother set off for the kitchen instead. She raced to the backdoor, but predictably more chains appeared. Poor mother was aghast. She threw herself onto the chained up door and began banging on it with a free arm (the other still clutching me tight).</p>
<p>“BUUUUD!!” she screamed desperately for daddy.</p>
<p>Through the window we could see him off in the car lot with his back to the house, completely oblivious. He was too busy tryin’ to sell off another lemon to even notice anything was wrong.</p>
<p>Despite mama’s screamin’ and the grim fact that otherworldly lights were flashing in and out through every opening, crack and crevice of our home, he remained blissfully unaware of the danger we were in.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Even though the figures were far away, when I squinted hard I could <em>just</em> <em>barely</em> make out what looked like a bewildered local pointing at our house. Daddy in turn, taking a good long sip of his coffee, turned his head back nonchalantly before bringing his attention back to the customer.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>One immediate double take and a spit of coffee told me he’d finally caught wind that things weren’t normal.</p>
<p><em>“BUUUUUD!!”</em> Mama screamed again, pounding on the door like a trapped animal.</p>
<p>The fluorescent lights in our kitchen burst behind us, causing mama to throw herself onto the floor in panic. She quivered as she sat curled up in a terrified ball, never once loosening her grip on me. Whether it was out of a need to protect me or for her own comfort. Probably both, I’d reckon.</p>
<p>Roses finally entered the kitchen at this point. She clutched the back of her head as she staggered in, slowly yet still quite menacingly. She snarled at us as black, tar-like liquid dripped from her lips (was that what <em>all</em> witches’ blood looked like, I briefly wondered).</p>
<p>I peeked up at her from underneath mama as she dragged herself ever closer. Even from the angle I was at on the floor I could tell she was already transforming into her true, horrifyin’ form. Just like Eleanor, her teeth had grown long and jagged, and her face was becomin’ a ghastly sight! Like a beast straight outta H, E, double hockey sticks.</p>
<p>She slammed a fist onto the kitchen counter, and the sheer force sent a tremor of destruction in its wake. The poor counter crumbled, and our table and chairs flew right up off the ground. They smashed into the opposite wall with an awful crash.</p>
<p>Mama was shaking so badly at this point. I thought for sure her heart would give out on her.</p>
<p>That’s when we finally heard daddy callin’ to us from outside. He tried to force open the back door, but when that didn’t work he charged at it like an angry bull. Still, the darn thing wouldn’t budge.</p>
<p>Roses scowled in annoyance at this, then quickly brought her attention back to me and mama. “I’ve had enough of these games,” she hissed. “Tell me where my amulet is.”</p>
<p>My fear turned to irritation real quick. “I told you—<em>I AIN’T GOT IT NO MORE!”</em> I shouted from underneath mama. “What, you got wax in your decrepit old ears or something?!”</p>
<p>This was the wrong response.</p>
<p>The witch roared, causing a surge of magic so powerful, our microwave up and exploded! Mama screamed again, squeezing me tighter and inching back as far away as she could from our former therapist.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Roses held up her arms and prepared to shoot another deadly blast at us. The energy caused all of our stovetops to turn on, and within seconds there were white hot flames lining what was left of the counters. Shoot, at this rate Roses was gonna set our whole house ablaze with us in it if she didn’t get what she wanted. With no other options, I got to doin’ what I used to do best. Lying to an adult.</p>
<p>“Alright, fine! I got your amulet!” I shouted. “I’ll tell ya where it is! Just leave my mother alone!”</p>
<p>Roses’ eyes narrowed at this. The magic radiating from her hands started to soften, and the fires in the kitchen died down instantly. I breathed a sigh of relief.</p>
<p><em>“Where?”</em> Roses demanded.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>My mind raced. I had to think of something, and think of it quick. Where was the <strong>worst</strong> possible place to put something belonging to a being unable to touch water? A place she’d never be willing to go to in a million years, thus rendering it’s retrieval impossible.</p>
<p>Well by gum, I immediately had it. “It’s—it’s at the bottom of the river!”</p>
<p>Whatever tiny bit of composure she had left all but flew out the window. “WHAT?!”</p>
<p>Like a dang fool I started smirking, thinking I had outsmarted her. “Yeah, that’s right. Bottom of the river. I chucked it there myself. ...so why don’tcha go fetch it ifin’ you ain’t afraid of a lil water?”</p>
<p>Roses fumed. I smugly placed my hands on my hips, certain that this had to be the end of it. She had her “answer” now, so I was sure she’d shove off to try to get her precious non-existent amulet, and never bother my family again.</p>
<p>I tell ya, I’m as dumb as a mule and twice as arrogant.</p>
<hr/>
<p>To say this plan blew up in my face was an understatement. Not seconds later did I find myself precariously dangling from her tight grip as she soared across the sky on a stolen broom. Roses summoned it right up off of our kitchen floor, snatched me up by the leg and made off with me through a broken window. One she naturally broke herself, of course.</p>
<p>The last thing I heard as I was carried off was mama cryin’ out my name.</p>
<p>I hollered, terrified, as the town grew smaller below me. I could see some of the tiny people gazing up in confusion as we flew by. I swallowed down a large gulp, sweat pourin’ down my face like a faucet. One slip of the hag’s hold on my ankle and I’d have been a flattened pancake for sure.</p>
<p>We approached the forest. The long, winding river below was awaiting me like a death sentence. Soon as we landed beside it, the witch shot me an threatening glare.</p>
<p>“N-no... please!” I sputtered, already knowing what she probably had in store. “I can’t swim!”</p>
<p>“Then you had better learn fast,” she said with a cold sneer. “Because you’re not coming back up for air until you have my amulet.”</p>
<p>And with that, she winded up and threw me in like a squealin’ ragdoll.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p><strike>Now luckily I kept my wits about me and didn’t panic</strike> <em>All right, all right, I PANICKED!!</em> I flailed and I thrashed about in the most undignified manner imaginable. Like a fool I screamed, which only resulted in fillin’ my lungs up with disgusting river water all the quicker.</p>
<p>I sunk like a stone. Dang it all, why did I have to turn down those swimming lessons at the community pool?! Just ‘cause I was embarrassed to be seen in front of folks wearin’ those unflattering water wings. Curse my vanity! Curse my stupid ideas too. Curse <em>everything.</em></p>
<p>At the very least mama, daddy and our house were safe now. I tried to imagine mama’s face one last time as my inelegant flailing grew weaker. The last of my oxygen soon slipped out of my grasp. I gave out one last pathetic gurgle. I could see the sunlight through the trees above the water grow dimmer before I completely blacked out.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>I didn’t expect to ever wake up again. Yet for some reason I’ll never understand, luck continued to favor me. I sprung back to consciousness, hacking up slimy river water till my face was red. As my vision came back into focus, I realized I was keeled over on the grass on the other side of the river. I felt a large hand hit me on the back while I continued to hack violently.</p>
<p>Ghost Eyes sat looming beside me, his long mop of red hair and bushy beard thoroughly soaked.</p>
<p>My angel! My guardian hench-angel!</p>
<p>The more I came to, the clearer I heard the sound of several engines revving. Roses soon found herself surrounded by ten or so motorcycles, each emerging out of the forest like a fiery horse drawn chariot comin’ straight outta heck. And each rider looked itchin’ to fight too! They must have seen me when I was bein’ carried off on broomstick, and raced over to the rescue.</p>
<p>The witch shrunk back, grasping the broomstick still in her hand. She looked ready to hop back on it and bail out, but Kill Bone lunged at her before she had the chance. She snarled like a cornered wild cat tryin’ to fight him off.</p>
<p>By this point Ghost Eyes had picked me up and held me protectively to his chest. But as inviting as his arms were, I pulled back, desperate to see.</p>
<p>Roses’ otherworldly shrieks continued. She was barely even human looking anymore at this point. I saw her sink her sharp teeth into Kill Bone’s arm, causing him to holler out in pain. The others jumped off their bikes and rushed in to help him, but this only ticked Roses off more. My goodness what a sight! Buncha burly men fightin’ a demon in the woods? Probably would have made for an impressive heavy metal album cover.</p>
<p>She reeved a clawed arm back and swung at them. It sent forth a powerful blast of magic, sending my poor men flying backwards into the trees. The heat from the blast crackled onto the branches as well, and soon the forest was set ablaze.</p>
<p>Ghost Eyes held me tighter, shielding me from the rising heat.</p>
<p>I was still weak from my near drowning, but I managed to cry out to the others. “The river— <em>push her into the river, ya’ll!”</em></p>
<p>Thankfully some of ‘em heard me. They recovered quick from their bashing, and hurriedly scrambled outta the way when Roses sent another flaming blast their way. They had to hurry and put an end to this battle fast, before we all perished in the growin’ fire.</p>
<p>We must’ve been near Manly Dan’s house, cause there was an assortment of recently chopped down logs all put together in a neat nearby pile. I shouted out a command to use one a’ the logs. The fellas gave a nod and retreated to do just that, using their combined strength to lift the top one up from the pile and charge at Roses with it as if they were storming the doors of an old timey castle.</p>
<p>Roses let forth one last wail as her body was shoved backwards into the river. Her shrieks turned into a garbled, incoherent whimper until her monstrous form disintegrated into black tar. Within moments the river washed away her remains.</p>
<p>With her gone, the magical flames engulfing the branches around us went out in a puff of smoke.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>My goodness, I was so dang relieved. I let my head fall back onto Ghost Eyes’ manly chest and closed my eyes, slipping right back into pleasant unconsciousness.</p>
<hr/>
<p>A short time later I found myself safely back home. Ghost Eyes and the others had gone, but not before cradling me and leaving me with rounds of loving head pats. Bless all of ‘em.</p>
<p>I could hear Daddy in the sad remains of our kitchen, fretting over all the damage. The broken pipes were starting to accumulate a small flood coming up to his ankles. He paced back and forth through the water while on the phone with a repairman, tryin’ to haggle a good price for an entire kitchen remodeling.</p>
<p>Mother and I, meanwhile, sat beside each other rather awkwardly on the living room couch. She had settled down a good few inches away, still visibly nervous around me, but also not wanting to leave my side. Thankfully she wasn’t hurt. Just terribly shaken up. Her hands were trembling somethin’ awful. It was gonna be a good long while before she ever trusted another therapist.</p>
<p>I looked over at her anxiously from underneath the large towel I was wrapped in.</p>
<p>Were things different now? <em>Could</em> they be? A large part of me hoped they were, despite all the horrors I had subjected this poor woman to. I didn’t deserve a second chance at a mother’s love, but darn it all. My selfish little ten-year-old heart still longed for it. Maybe there was still a chance to start over.</p>
<p>But what could I even say? How could I even <em>begin</em> to apologize?</p>
<p>“Ma.. mama...?” I mumbled weakly.</p>
<p>She didn’t look up. She seemed far more interested in a random spot on the carpet. That or she was avoiding my glance. Probably the latter.</p>
<p>I sighed, slumping back.</p>
<p>Forget it, I thought. You’ve screwed up too many times, Gideon. You have to live with the consequences. Make peace with the cold hard fact that your mother will never love you again, and that it’s more than well deserved.</p>
<p>But then, to my surprise, I heard her speak.</p>
<p>“I had a bad feeling about this town from the start...” she muttered softly, still keeping her gaze transfixed on the carpet. “I shouldn’t have let your daddy move us here.”</p>
<p>“N-no mama, it wasn’t your fault!” I told her, scooting closer without really thinking. “It wasn’t the town!”</p>
<p><strike>Ok, it partially was, but</strike> NO. No, dang it, Gideon, <em>no more excuses.</em> No more blamin’ my troubles on the town or on dusty books or stupid amulets. It wasn’t just those things. It had to be more. It had to be <em>me. </em>I was greedy and spiteful and power hungry. I was a no good skunk who summoned demons and manipulated folks.</p>
<p>It. Was. All. Me.</p>
<p>I clenched my little fists together and looked up at her with all the shameful remorse I had in me. “It was <em>me</em>, mama! It’s always been me! I’ve been rotten from the start!”</p>
<p>I reached out to touch her hand, but she flinched back. That hurt me bad. Like a stab straight to the gut, though I knew it wasn’t unjustified. Heck, that made it hurt all the worse.</p>
<p>“You deserved a better son than me, mama...”</p>
<p>She did. She really did.</p>
<p>“I-I’m so sorry.”</p>
<p>A miserable sob escaped my throat. I wanted so badly to hug her, but I had to stay back. I buried my face into the couch cushion instead and wept. “I’m s-sorry, mama... I’m so sorry...”</p>
<p>I waited pitifully for her to reject me. Instead, I felt a hand cautiously place itself on the back of my head. I could still sense the stiffness in her, but she managed to work up the courage to start gently stroking my hair.</p>
<p>Along with her very soft strokes, I felt a small droplet splash atop my head. Then another. Then another. Didn’t take long for me to realize she had started weepin’ just as hard as I was.</p>
<p>“...baby..” she whimpered, more tears falling from her face onto me. “...my baby... I’ve wanted you to come back for so long...”</p>
<p>Well. That did it. The floodgates weren’t just open anymore. They were a raging waterfall by this point, overflowing outta my little body as though I were a broken sprinkler. I shot up and threw myself into her arms. I was vaguely aware of how unfair it was to do so, what with her still being understandably wary of me. I thought for sure she’d push me away.</p>
<p>But she didn’t.</p>
<p>Instead she threw her arms around me as well. She trembled like mad, but still, she held me close. It felt like she was huggin’ me with every ounce of strength she had. As though she were terrified that she’d lose me again if she didn’t.</p>
<p>Both of us fell to pieces, bawling like babies.</p>
<p>Daddy came in to see what all the commotion was about, then hurriedly backtracked back into the kitchen, thinking it’d be best not to ask. Let’s just hope he doesn’t try hirin’ another sketchy therapist.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>December 16th</strong>
</p>
<p>Maybe miracles really <em>do</em> happen. And I’m not just talkin’ about manipulatively phony holiday specials, but in real life too.</p>
<p>Mother is finally speaking to me (albeit timidly). She actually acknowledges me and, dare I say it, tries her best not jump in alarm when I approach her. It’s almost as if we’re slowly but surely reaching a sense of genuine normalcy in our household again. After so many, many years.</p>
<p>Shoot, it’s enough to make me wanna break down and cry again.</p>
<p>I swear I’m not gonna mess this up again. I’m gonna be as patient and gentle as a tiny lil’ ol saint with both mama and daddy for the rest of my days. You can hold me to it!</p>
<p>Now Christmas is right around the corner. With all’a this witch hullabaloo goin’ on, it really crept up and surprised me this year. But to heck with Christmas. I’m much more focused on New Year’s. Or, more importantly, New Year’s resolutions.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“All right, I’ve done the math!” I spouted off, sounding a tad more erratic than I meant to, as I scribbled calculations onto a tiny white board. “If I do twenty-five good deeds a day till I’m the ripe old age of ninety-nine, then I <em>miiiiight</em> just be able to cancel out all the bad I’ve done!”</p>
<p>Mother wore an expression on her face that told me she wasn’t exactly in agreement.</p>
<p>She sat on my bed watching me, the plate of snacks she’d brought in going ignored. She wrung her hands, nervous as usual, but willing to stay and keep me company now.</p>
<p>“Baby...” she said softly. “The lord loves and the lord forgives.”</p>
<p>“The lord also turns people into giant pillars of salt— he ain’t <em>that</em> forgiving.” I retorted, not taking my eyes off the board.</p>
<p>I’d paid attention during all those early mornings at Sunday school back in the day, so I knew the lord was no chump. I was in for an eternity of roasting on the grill if I didn’t start pulling things into overdrive. Planting trees, saving kittens, picking up trash, all’a that goodie goodie stuff.</p>
<p>“Baby,” she said again. “I don’t want you frettin’ yourself sick over this. Please.”</p>
<p>I sighed, taking a step back from the board. “But I <em>got</em> to, mama. I've already done so much bad in my life. Enough for ten whole lifetimes!”</p>
<p>She flinched, and I immediately calmed my tone. “S-sorry!” I muttered, raising my arms apprehensively. Shoot, so much for not scarin' her no more. She took a deep breath and rose up off the bed. She knelt down beside me, a look of gentleness written across her wary features, and she took hold of my shaking hands.</p>
<p>“It's true. You done bad, baby. But you done some good now, too.” She stroked my hand, and I felt my frazzled nerves start to ease.</p>
<p>“And you're gunna <em>keep</em> on doin' better now. I know you will. ...cause when I look into your eyes now, I finally see the little boy I lost all those years ago lookin' back at me.”</p>
<p>With that, she gave me a soft kiss on the forehead.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>I still felt like a giant weight of guilt would forever be on my shoulders, haunting me until the day I croaked. But I had my mother's love back. As grim as the future looked, perhaps her love, as well as daddy’s, Ghost Eyes’ and the rest of the fellas, might just make the guilt a touch more bearable.</p>
<p>At the very least, I'd stick it out for them.</p>
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